SALLY 


Sally  Temple 


„.  CALIF.  LIBRAH*.  MB 


The  Heart 

of 

Sally   Temple 

BSI 
Rupert  Sargent  Holland 


Author  of 

The  Man  in  th«  Tow«r, 
The  Count  at  Harvard 


New  York 
McBride,  Nast  <%  Company 

1913 


Copyright,    1913,  by 
McBniDE,  NAST&CO. 


Published,  October,  1913 


TO 

G.  E.  M. 

Who  Heard  This  Story 
First  in  the  White 

Mountains 


2130267 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTEK  PAGE 

I  TURTLE-DOVES  IN  VAUXHALL  GARDENS           9 

II  THE  LADY  GOES  TO  CUMNOR     ...      29 

III  ROMSEY  MEETS  His  WARD  ....     49 

IV  THE  MASTERFUL  MAN  AT  HOME    .      .      64 

V  THE  LADY  HEARS  COMMANDS    ...      79 

VI  LORD  VERNEY  SHOWS  His  METTLE       .      95 

VII  THE  RESULTS  OF  AN  INDISCRETION       .    Ill 

VIII  THE  DRAGON  PROVES  His  TITLE     .      .    123 

IX  THE  FLIGHT  OF  THE  LADY        .      .      .    134 

X  OVERSEEN  FROM  AN  ARBOR       .      .      .146 

XI  THE  ENCOUNTER  AT  THE  INN    .      .      .    155 

XII  THE  WIND  IN  PUMP  LANE         .      .      .    165 

XIII  OLIVER  PIPE'S  NEW  SMITH        .      .      .    176 

XIV  THE  EVIL  SEEDS  IN  CHEAPSIDE       .      .    188 

XV     SALLY'S  PROBLEM 205 

XVI  A  LANDLORD  VISITS  His  TENANTS         .    216 

XVII  THE  SUPPER  AT  RICHMOND      .      .      .   228 

XVIII     GROTE  GIVES  CHASE 245 

XIX  A  NIGHT'S  EVENTS  IN  A  GREAT  HOUSE  257 

XX  THE  DRAMA  IN  PUMP  COURT                  .    271 


Sally  Temple 


THE 
HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 


PART  I 
I 

TUKTLE-DOVES    IN    VAUXHALL    GARDENS 

HPHE  accident  happened  just  outside  Vauxhall 
*  Gardens  late  in  the  afternoon.  The  rear  axle 
broke,  and  let  the  coach  down  in  the  road  with  a  pro- 
digious thump.  But  the  coachman  knew  his  business, 
and  had  his  horses  stopped  within  a  dozen  yards.  It 
was  well  he  had,  for  the  thump  and  the  subsequent 
bumping  were  enough  to  have  shaken  the  nerves  of  a 
stronger  woman  than  Lady  Pamela  Tree,  even  had 
she  not  been  in  such  a  novel  situation.  The  lady  gave 
a  shriek  and  shut  her  eyes.  She  did  not  have  to 
reach  out  to  anyone  for  protection,  inasmuch  as 
she  was  already  in  the  arms  of  a  young  gentleman, 
and  seemed  likely  to  cling  there  forever. 

Even  such  a  delicious  burden,  however,  could  not 

make  the  gentleman  forget  that  he  was  reclining  on 

9 


10      THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

the  flat  of  his  back,  with  his  feet  sprawling  in  air. 
"Be  calm,  my  love!"  he  exclaimed;  "all  the  danger's 
past!  Open  your  eyes  a  moment;"  and  therewith 
he  gently  disengaged  himself,  and  reaching  his  hand 
to  a  strap  that  now  hung  above  him  he  pulled  himself 
to  his  feet.  He  thrust  the  coach-door  open.  "Now, 
dearest  Pamela,  your  hand.  It's  only  a  broken  axle, 
and  the  horses  are  standing  quite  still." 

The  lady  was  very  pale,  but  she  contrived  to  reach 
his  hand,  and  then  to  step  out  of  the  down-set  coach. 
A  crowd  had  meantime  gathered  round.  Charles 
Tree  glanced  them  over,  and  then  beckoned  one  for- 
ward. "A  crown  if  you'll  fetch  me  another  coach 
here,"  said  he  to  this  one.  And  to  the  coachman  he 
added,  "Get  some  of  these  lads  to  help  you  with  the 
wreckage." 

With  that  he  looked  down  at  the  Lady  Pamela, 
and  straightway  all  thoughts  of  the  broken  carriage 
flew  from  his  mind.  "Let  us  get  through  these  people 
to  some  retreat,"  he  murmured,  and  pressed  the  hand 
that  rested  on  his  arm  a  little  closer  to  his  side. 

Being  opposite  the  gate  of  Vauxhall  Gardens,  it 
was  very  natural  that  Mr.  Tree  should  lead  his  fair 
companion  within  the  hedges,  and  find  a  seat  that  was 
not  too  small  for  two,  nor  yet  large  enough  for  three. 
The  seat  was  under  a  laburnum,  and  well  withdrawn 
from  the  mall  where  the  gay  people  walked.  Mr. 
Tree  seated  the  lady,  and  then,  drawing  a  handker- 
chief from  his  pocket,  touched  his  face  with  it.  The 


TURTLE-DOVES  IN  VAUXHALL        11 

afternoon  was  warm  for  early  June.  "Pam,"  said 
he,  "your  eyes  are  like  the  sea  when  it's  most  blue 
and  tender.  You  are  the  sweetest  woman  in  the 
world!" 

She  lost  her  pallor  in  a  sweeping  blush,  and  the 
eyes  were  hid  for  a  moment  under  their  lashes. 
Charles  Tree  stood  looking  at  the  slender  lady, 
gowned  in  saffron,  with  a  little  chain  of  gold  about 
her  throat.  "And  to  think  that  I — "  said  he,  "rude, 
rough  I—" 

She  reached  her  hand  quickly  toward  him.  "No, 
Charles,  no.  Indeed  I  am  no  wonder!  Only  a  very 
simple  girl  who  — " 

"Yes,"  said  he,  bending  lower,  "who  — " 

"Sit  down,"  said  she,  "while  I  finish." 

He  sat  down;  and  she  whispered  the  end  of  her 
sentence  to  him.  After  that  the  two  murmured  and 
were  silent  just  as  they  had  been  in  the  coach  before 
that  momentous  axle  took  it  in  mind  to  break. 

The  Gardens  had  many  eyes,  and  although  the 
laburnum  was  far  from  the  mall,  some  of  those  eyes 
were  roving  and  inquisitive.  Presently  a  young  man, 
walking  between  two  others,  stopped,  and  shot  a 
glance  in  that  direction.  Then  he  whistled.  "Can 
that  be  Charles  Tree?"  said  he,  nodding  his  head. 

"In  buff  and  blue?"  asked  one  of  the  others. 

"Sitting  extremely  close  to  the  lovely  female?" 
inquired  the  third.  "Egad,  that's  Charles's  favorite 
attitude  nowadays." 


12      THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

"I'm  no  spoilsport,"  began  the  first,  "but  if  it  is 
Charles  — " 

"We  certainly  ought  to  know,"  finished  the  second. 

"There's  a  path  that  will  bring  us  not  too  close," 
suggested  the  third,  pointing  with  his  tasseled  walk- 
ing-stick. 

The  three  young  blades  walked  down  the  path, 
pretending  to  look  anywhere  except  at  the  labur- 
num. Presently  one  murmured,  "It  is  Charles,  the 
rake!"  "He  has  her  hands  in  his!"  muttered  an- 
other. The  third  at  length  broke  the  silence  with  a 
whispered,  "Damme,  if  it  isn't  Lady  Pamela  Vau- 
clain!" 

By  now  they  had  gone  past  the  direct  view  of  the 
seat  below  the  laburnum.  "I  think,"  said  one  of  the 
gentlemen,  "since  it  is  the  Lady  Pam,  we  ought  to 
give  Charles  a  warning." 

"But  not  surprise  them  too  quickly,"  suggested 
one  of  the  other  two. 

"We  might  walk  to  the  gate,  turn  about,  and 
come  back  whistling,"  proposed  the  third. 

That  they  did;  and  therefore,  shortly  after,  three 
gentlemen  of  fashion  reappeared  on  the  path,  walk- 
ing arm  in  arm,  and  whistling  loud  enough  to  charm 
all  the  thrushes  in  the  Gardens. 

The  Lady  Pamela  heard  them,  and  gave  Charles 
Tree  a  tiny  push.  Then  he  also  heard  them,  and 
turned  his  head  in  their  direction.  That  was  the 


TURTLE-DOVES  IN  VAUXHALL         13 

cue  for  the  three  conspirators,  and  they  immediately 
left  their  path  and  crossed  over  to  the  little  bench. 

The  gentlemen  swept  their  high-crowned  hats 
from  their  heads,  and  bent  to  their  waists.  Said  the 
first,  "A  rare  pleasure  indeed  to  find  you  here,  Lady 
Pamela,  and  my  brave  Charles  Tree." 

"Town  has  missed  you  sorely,"  said  the  second, 
tapping  his  lacquered  top-boots  with  his  malacca 
stick. 

And  the  third:  "We  have  no  roses  in  London  like 
those  at  Cumnor  Place." 

Lady  Pamela  blushed,  although  she  struggled  not 
to.  "My  Lord  Dorset,  Lord  Verney,  and  Sir  John 
Gorham,"  said  she,  looking  at  each  in  turn,  "you 
took  us  quite  by  surprise,  I  do  declare." 

"And  Charles,"  suggested  Lord  Verney,  smiling 
knowingly,  "is  cursing  the  luck  that  sent  the  three 
of  us  this  way." 

That  was,  indeed,  what  Charles  was  doing ;  but  he 
waved  the  base  notion  from  him  as  politely  as  he 
could.  "My  coach  broke  an  axle,"  said  he,  "and  we 
stepped  into  the  Gardens  while  they  fetched  another 
for  us." 

"And  chose  a  seat  where  you  couldn't  possibly  see 
any  coach  at  all?"  queried  Sir  John.  "Come, 
Charlie,  it's  best  to  speak  the  truth  to  such  old 
friends  as  we." 

Mr.  Tree  looked  at  the  lady,  and  instinctively  her 


14       THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

eyes  turned  to  him.  Thereupon  his  eyebrows  rose  in 
a  question.  "Shall  I  tell  the  truth,"  he  asked ;  "the 
whole  truth?" 

Lady  Pamela,  her  interlocked  hands  lying  on  the 
lap  of  her  silken  gown,  suddenly  fell  to  an  intense 
study  of  the  tip  of  a  beaded  slipper  that  just  stole 
from  under  her  skirt.  She  nodded  her  head ;  and 
then  she  blushed  furiously.  "No,  Charles,"  she  said 
quickly.  "Yes,  Charles.  Oh,  dear  me,  use  your  own 
best  judgment,  sir!" 

She  looked  so  adorable  in  this  confusion  that 
Charles  almost  lost  his  tongue.  But  he  made  an  ef- 
fort, rose,  and  confronted  the  three  men.  "The 
town  would  know  by  nightfall  anyhow,  and  so  I'll 
give  you  old  friends  the  start  of  it.  The  fact  is  that 
Lady  Pamela  and  I  were  wed  at  three  o'clock  this 
afternoon." 

The  star-eyed,  rose-flushed  lady  received  a  bow 
from  each  of  the  gentlemen,  and  Charles  Tree  several 
slaps  on  the  back  and  hearty  handshakes.  Lord 
Verney  laughed.  "And  so  the  broken  wedding-coach 
brought  you  to  Vauxhall  Gardens  instead  of  to  the 
Elysian  Fields,"  he  chuckled. 

Sir  John  Gorham's  eyes  twinkled.  "And  we  three 
came  over  expressly  to  warn  you  that  you  might  be 
overseen !"  he  exclaimed. 

"May  not  a  man  look  at  his  own  wife?"  demanded 
Charles,  and  suited  the  action  to  the  words.  But 
Lady  Pamela  would  not  look  at  him;  instead,  her 


TURTLE-DOVES  IN  VAUXHALL         15 

eyes  followed  her  slipper  as  it  swung  from  under  her 
skirt. 

The  rubicund  Earl  of  Dorset,  moon-faced  and 
round-eyed,  as  if  to  relieve  the  situation,  changed  the 
subject.  "So  you  overcame  the  dragon  at  last,  did 
you?"  said  he.  "I  had  my  doubts  of  his  consenting. 
Rumor  said  he  couldn't  swallow  your  mother's  son, 
Charlie.  'Better  my  cousin  Pamela  was  a  lady  nun 
that  Lady  Pamela  Tree !'  was  the  message  I  heard 
he  sent  home  from  abroad." 

"So  he  did  say,"  agreed  Tree,  frowning.  "He 
hates  my  family,  though  he  doesn't  know  anything 
about  me." 

"But  he  did  consent  to  the  wedding  at  last,  eh?" 
questioned  Gorham. 

The  bridegroom  shook  his  head.  "No,  Jack,  he 
hasn't.  I  don't  believe  he  ever  would.  What  he  did 
was  to  send  word  that  he  was  coming  back  to  Cumnor 
from  Italy  at  once.  And  as  we  were  both  afraid  of 
what  he  might  do  when  he  got  here,  we  determined 
to  wed  at  once." 

"Is  the  Lady  Pamela  of  age?"  asked  Gorham. 

"Not  for  a  fortnight  yet,  'Jack.  That  was  a 
stumbling-block;  but  I  found  a  complaisant  vicar. 
To  make  the  matter  absolutely  formal,  we'll  be  wed 
again  on  Pamela's  birthday.  But  we  didn't  dare 
wait,  with  him  almost  here." 

The  lady  looked  up  at  the  men  beseechingly. 
"They  say  he's  terribly  savage,  and  much  more 


Italian  than  English,"  she  put  in  hurriedly.  "He 
might  have  locked  me  up,  or  sent  me  to  a  convent; 
and  I've  no  liking  for  solitude,  and  not  much  taste 
for  religion,  I'm  afraid." 

"And  a  real  taste  for  Charlie  Tree?"  suggested 
Sir  John.  "Indeed,  if  I'd  been  in  your  place  I'd  have 
felt  exactly  the  same." 

Lord  Verney,  lank  and  dark,  his  hands  behind  him, 
and  twirling  his  stick  like  the  arms  of  a  windmill, 
gazed  at  the  bride  and  groom.  "That  all  sounds 
very  well,"  said  he,  banteringly,  "but  when  the 
dragon  does  come  home,  what  if  he  gobbles  you  up, 
makes  a  meal  of  you,  takes  the  law  to  you  for  flout- 
ing him  so,  and  shears  the  lady  of  her  golden  fleece 
of  lands  and  holdings?  It's  no  light  matter  to  make 
a  dragon  angry."  He  shook  his  head  at  the  pair. 

"That's  what  the  solicitors  hinted,"  agreed  Tree. 
"If  they  had  a  month  they  might  secure  some  of 
Lady  Pam's  property  for  her,  they  said;  or  if  only 
three  weeks  they  might  get  something;  but  when  we 
thought  how  he  might  be  here  any  day  we  didn't 
dare  take  the  risk  of  waiting  even  that  long." 

"If  only,"  said  Lady  Pamela,  clasping  her  hands 
and  gazing  at  Sir  John  Gorham  as  if  she  thought 
him  the  wisest  of  the  three,  **we  could  gain  a  little 
time !  If  we  knew  what  he  was  really  like,  we  might 
win  him  over.  But  when  he  comes  to  Surrey,  and  finds 
me  gone,  and  into  the  bargain  wed  to  Charles — " 


TURTLE-DOVES  IN  VAUXHALL         17 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  shook  her  pretty 
head  distressfully. 

Lord  Dorset,  whose  tongue  was  as  frank  as  his 
round  face,  laughed  freely.  "He'll  be  as  mad  as  a 
bull  at  a  baiting,"  he  declared. 

The  shrewd  Sir  John  was  pulling  his  chin.  "And 
the  black  Marquis  of  Romsey  is  no  child's  bogie- 
man,"  said  he. 

"But  she's  mine  by  Mother  Church  now!"  ex- 
claimed Charles  Tree.  "I  only  did  what  any  lover 
would  do !" 

"Doubtless,  Charlie,"  said  Sir  John,  nodding. 
"But  you're  both  in  a  pretty  pickle  nevertheless." 
He  frowned,  and  drew  a  pattern  on  the  walk  with 
his  stick.  "See,"  said  he,  "the  Marquis  of  Romsey 
comes  home  from  abroad  and  goes  to  Cumnor.  He 
finds  his  fair  cousin  and  ward  has  fled  and  married. 
Such  a  paragon  of  a  cousin!  Such  a  rascal  of  a 
husband!  lie  sets  to  work  to  make  an  example  of 
her,  and  within  the  fortnight  lays  hands  on  her 
estate  to  pay  her  for  flouting  him.  There's  no  know- 
ing what  he  might  do  to  her  for  the  clandestine  wed- 
ding. It  looks  to  me  as  if  all  the  law  would  stand 
on  his  side." 

"And  all  because  I  wasn't  born  two  weeks  earlier !" 
said  Lady  Pamela.  "How  preposterous!  The  man 
hasn't  seen  me  since  I  was  in  a  cradle.  Why,  he 
doesn't  know  if  I'm  blonde  or  dark." 


18      THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

"The  more  distraught  he'll  be,"  declared  the  gal- 
lant Verney,  "when  he  sees  what  he's  lost." 

"Has  not  seen  you?"  repeated  Sir  John  slowly. 
"Then  if  it's  only  a  little  time  you  want,  why  not — 
oh,  that's  a  splendid  thought!"  He  chuckled  de- 
lightedly, and  thumped  his  stick  on  the  ground. 
"Why  not  have  another  Lady  Pam  to  greet  him? 
That'll  deceive  him  for  a  fortnight,  or  perhaps  a 
month,  and  in  that  time  you  can  put  the  business 
right!" 

They  all  stared  at  Sir  John,  thinking  that  he  was 
chaffing ;  but  his  face  was  serious. 

"But  if  Romsey  found  that  out  wouldn't  he  be  ten 
time  madder  than  ever,  Jack?"  expostulated  the  Earl 
of  Dorset,  his  eyes  very  round. 

"Still,  it's  a  gambler's  chance;  and  the  stakes  are 
high,  and  worth  winning." 

"It's  a  wild  scheme,"  murmured  Verney,  looking 
as  if  he  rather  liked  the  idea. 

"So  was  the  wedding  in  this  fashion,"  said  Sir 
John.  "What  do  you  say,  Charles?  Will  you  try 
the  game?" 

Mr.  Tree  was  much  put  about.  "It's  a  mad 
plan.  .  .  .  Yet  a  little  time  would  save  the  situa- 
tion. .  .  .  If  he  found  it  out  the  business  would 
be  worse  than  ever.  Yet  it  might  work  — " 

Here  Lady  Pamela  broke  in.  "But,  gentlemen, 
where  is  such  another  woman  ?" 

That    brought    them    up    with    a    halt.      "Aye, 


TURTLE-DOVES  IN  VAUXHALL         19 

Jack,"  said  Verney,  quickly,  as  if  the  idea  had  oc- 
curred to  him  at  the  same  moment,  "where  is  she?" 
"Catch  her  first,  Jack,"  said  the  slower  Dorset. 
Tree  shook  his  head  dubiously.  "Where  could  we 
find  a  second  Lady  Pamela?"  he  queried. 

Sir  John  admitted  that  they  had  set  him  the  very 
devil  of  a  problem.  The  woman  must  be  young  and 
pleasing,  able  to  dissemble,  and  of  sufficiently  good 
address  to  hold  a  man's  attention.  She  must  have 
courage,  since  it  was  well  known  that  the  Marquis 
was  a  very  strange,  not  to  say  a  very  savage,  man. 
So  Sir  John  reflected  aloud,  while  the  lady  nodded 
acquiescence,  and  the  three  men  pretended  to  be  help- 
ing him  to  think. 

"I  fear  me,"  said  Sir  John  at  last,  "there  is  no 
such  woman."  He  cast  his  gaze  skyward,  he  took  a 
few  strides  up  and  down  the  grass,  and  he  looked 
across  at  the  mall.  Suddenly  he  stopped  pacing, 
and  struck  his  walking-stick  a  dramatic  thump  on 
the  ground.  "I  have  the  woman,  lads,  the  very  girl 
in  a  million!  Who  but  Sally  Temple?  Who  but 
Sally  ?  And  see,  there  she  is !" 

They  all  followed  his  glance  to  the  mall.  A  young 
woman  was  walking  down  it,  a  man  by  her  side.  The 
young  woman  appeared  to  be  laughing. 

"Wait  here,"  said  Sir  John,  "while  I  fetch  her;" 
and  straightway  he  darted  across  the  grass  to  the 
promenade. 

The  young  woman  in  the  cherry  gown  and  the 


20      THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

broad  straw  hat  tied  with  cherry  ribbons  was  laugh- 
ing at  her  companion  when  Sir  John  arrived.  "Oh, 
Sally,"  said  the  latter,  excitedly,  "you  come  in  the 
nick  of  time!"  He  stood  before  her,  barring  the 
way,  his  cone-shaped  hat  at  his  hip. 

The  girl  stopped,  her  right  hand  caught  to  her 
breast.  "Oh,  la,  how  you  startled  me!  Why,  it's 
Sir  John  Gorham!" 

"Jack,  Sally,  Jack!" 

"Faith,  Jack,  then."  The  girl's  eyes  shot  him  a 
mischievous,  mocking  glance.  "  'Tis  so  long  since  we 
met  I  was  not  sure." 

"I've  been  in  the  country,  Sally.  It  seems  an 
age!" 

She  threw  up  her  hands  in  mock  despair.  "Why 
folk  seek  the  country  when  there's  town  is  beyond  my 
thinking!  I  misdoubt,  Sir  John,  if  you've  met  Mr. 
Willis  of  Drury  Lane  Theatre?" 

The  two  men  bowed;  and  Sir  John  turned  again 
to  Sally.  "I've  a  favor  to  beg,"  said  he.  "Lady 
Pamela  Tree,  who's  sitting  under  that  laburnum 
yonder,  has  heard  of  Mistress  Sally  Temple's  acting, 
and  has  asked  me  to  present  her.  Will  Mr.  Willis 
surrender  you  to  me  ?" 

"Will  you,  George?"  asked  the  girl.  She  nodded, 
as  if  replying  for  him.  "Of  course  you  will.  It  was 
a  perfect  stroll,  and  I  did  enjoy  it.  If  I  do  Sir  John 
this  favor,  he  shall  take  me  home.  Get  me  another 


TURTLE-DOVES  IN  VAUXHALL         21 

part  at  the  Lane  as  soon  as  you  can ;  I've  no  need  of 
resting  any  longer." 

She  judged  rightly  that  Mr.  Willis,  as  a  fellow 
player,  and  fully  cognizant  of  the  importance  of  a 
wide  acquaintance  for  a  budding  actress,  would  not 
take  offense  at  this  dismissal.  "If  I  had  the  say 
you'd  play  every  night,"  said  he ;  and,  with  a  bow  to 
her  and  one  to  Sir  John,  he  took  himself  away. 

"A  dear  fellow,"  exclaimed  Sally,  "and  such  a 
romantic  air  as  he  can  manage !  On  my  word,  Jack, 
Willis  will  be  a  star  himself  some  day." 

"There  can  be  only  one  star  in  our  sky — you, 
Sally,"  said  Sir  John,  and  putting  his  arm  at  her 
disposal,  he  bore  her  across  the  grass  to  the  watch- 
ing group. 

Lady  Pamela,  viewing  the  actress  from  a  rather 
critical  standard,  yet  found  her  very  blooming.  She 
recognized  a  formidable  rival  even  to  her  own  love- 
liness, and  judged  that  the  young  woman  had  good 
sense  as  well  as  looks. 

"Lady  Pamela  Tree,  Mr.  Charles  Tree,  Mistress 
Temple,"  announced  Sir  John.  The  bride  smiled  a 
welcome,  Mr.  Tree  bowed,  and  the  other  two  men, 
each  of  whom  was  already  numbered  among  Sally's 
victims,  bent  over  her  little  mittened  hand. 

Sally  made  a  curtsey,  smiling  back  at  Lady  Pa- 
mela, and  nodded,  her  eyes  lit  with  laughter,  at  each 
of  the  three  men. 


22      THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

"Come  sit  with  me,"  invited  the  lady. 

Sally  did  as  she  was  bid,  wondering  what  particu- 
lar mischief  might  be  afoot.  Something  amusing 
was  in  the  air  she  had  felt  as  soon  as  she  had  seen 
Sir  John  Gorham's  mates. 

"Matters  are  in  a  muddle,"  said  Sir  John,  poking 
the  point  of  his  walking-stick  into  the  soft  turf,  and 
leaning  on  it  while  he  looked  at  Sally.  "We  thought 
perhaps  you  would  help  us  out.  This  is  how  they 
stand."  Quickly  he  sketched  the  situation  to  her: — 
Lady  Pamela,  the  cousin  and  ward  of  the  Marquis  of 
Romsey,  who  had  lived  in  Italy  almost  ever  since  she 
was  born ;  Lady  Pamela  marrying  Charles  Tree, 
whom  Lord  Romsey  hated  because  of  an  ancient 
falling  out  between  the  two  men's  fathers ;  the  Mar- 
quis's arrival  almost  immediately,  a  few  days  before 
the  Lady's  coming  of  age,  and  the  great  need  of 
keeping  him  in  ignorance  of  the  wedding  for  a  fort- 
night at  least.  Then  Sir  John  let  fall  his  bomb. 
"And  we  all  want  you  to  be  the  unwed  Lady  Pamela 
at  Cumnor  Castle,  and  so  gain  the  time  we  need." 

Sally  let  the  words  sink  in.  Then  she  laughed  as 
she  looked  at  each  of  the  men  in  turn,  and  finally  at 
the  woman  who  sat  beside  her.  "Is  he  mad?"  she 
asked;  "or  do  you  all  want  to  play  some  prank  on 
me?" 

"No,  no,"   answered  Lady   Pamela,   "we're  most 


serious. 
tt 


No  one  could  play  the  part  as  you  could,"  urged 


TURTLE-DOVES  IN  VAUXHALL         23 

Sir  John.  "You  play  the  Lady  of  Cumnor  for  a 
month,  and  I'll  see  you're  as  well  paid  for  each  per- 
formance as  the  star  at  Drury  Lane.  And  if  you'll 
do  us  the  favor  of  trying  it  there's  a  necklet  of 
pearls  shall  be  my  small  gift  for  your  kindness, 
Sally." 

"And  a  ruby  ring  from  me,"  said  the  Earl  of 
Dorset,  not  to  be  outdone. 

"And  a  girdle  to  match  your  hair,"  added  the  ro- 
mantic Verney,  "if  such  is  to  be  found." 

Charles  Tree  bent  forward  pleadingly.  "If  you'll 
do  it,"  said  he,  "you'll  be  helping  my  wife  and  me 
from  a  very  bad  predicament." 

Sally's  cheeks  were  red  as  roses,  and  her  eyes 
danced  as  she  surveyed  them  all.  "Why,  you're  as 
mad  as  March  hares,"  said  she.  "I  never  heard  tell 
of  a  plot  so  ridiculous!"  She  drew  out  that  last 
word  to  an  amazing  length. 

Sir  John  looked  somewhat  abashed,  but  he  stood 
to  his  guns.  "Even  ogres  don't  eat  women  nowa- 
days," said  he,  stoutly. 

"I  don't  believe  Romsey's  half  so  black  as  he's 
painted,"  observed  the  mild-voiced  Earl. 

"He  cares  little  for  your  sex,  I  understand,"  con- 
tributed Charles  Tree,  "so,  after  you'd  greeted  him 
you  could  let  him  quite  alone." 

Lady  Pamela's  hand  touched  that  of  Sally.  "But 
I  shouldn't  like  you  to  run  any  peril  on  my  score," 
said  she. 


24      THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

"Peril?"  echoed  Sally.  "And,  pray  who  is  this 
man-monster,  then?" 

Mr.  Tree  took  it  upon  himself  to  answer.  "Rom- 
sey's  lived  abroad  so  long  none  of  us  know  him.  By 
my  lady's  pardon,  the  men  of  his  house  have  a  name 
for  wildness.  This  one  had  an  Italian  mother,  and 
he  has  chosen  to  stay  in  Italy,  some  say  because  the 
wild  life  there  suited  him  better  than  our  English 
ways." 

Lady  Pamela  added,  "He  should  be  something 
over  thirty,  unwed,  dark  and  tall." 

"Just  my  notion  of  an  Italian  brigand,"  observed 
the  stout  little  Earl.  "A  most  uncomfortable  sort 
of  man  to  have  in  London." 

Mistress  Temple  looked  at  them  reprovingly,  the 
lines  of  her  pretty  mouth  drawn  into  a  pout.  "And 
you  would  have  me  live  alone  in  the  house  with  such 
a  monster?"  she  said.  "Why,  I  thought  you  had 
more  feeling  for  me,  Sir  John.  A  poor,  simple 
creature  such  as  I." 

Sir  John  appeared  embarrassed.  "Egad,  perhaps 
I  was  wrong  to  suggest  it,"  he  admitted.  "But  the 
plan  did  seem  to  me  the  one  way  out  of  the  muddle. 
I  forgot  Romsey  was  so  black  a  creature." 

Sally's  eyes,  veiled  by  long  lashes,  studied  her  lap. 
"You  would  like  to  cage  a  poor  girl  with  a  fire-eating 
monster  out  of  Italy,  a  girl  who's  only  known  the 
simple  folk  of  Cheapside  and  the  elegant  gentlemen 
of  St.  James's." 


TURTLE-DOVES  IN  VAUXHALL         25 

"On  my  word,"  broke  in  Verney,  "it's  a  shame !" 

She  did  not  heed  him.  "You'd  match  the  wits  of 
such  a  one,"  she  went  on,  "who's  hard  put  to  it  to 
hold  her  own  against  such  elegant  gentlemen,  against 
the  malice  of  a  brigand  from  Italy,  and  not  from 
Vauxhall  Gardens,  your  dour  Marquis  of  Romsey, 
your  dare-devil  man !" 

"I  crave  your  pardon,"  cried  Sir  John,  now  very 
apologetic. 

Sally  lifted  her  head,  her  crown  of  red-gold  hair 
showing  beneath  her  straw  hat.  Her  eyes  were 
swimming-bright,  and  her  lips  curled  scornfully. 
"Very  good,  my  masters !"  said  she.  "I'll  take  your 
offers,  a  necklet  of  pearls,  a  ruby  ring,  a  golden 
girdle,  and  the  pay  of  a  star  at  Drury  Lane  for  my 
acting.  I'll  be  ward  and  cousin  to  your  Marquis. 
And  I'll  show  you  that  Sally  Temple,  if  she  does 
come  from  Pump  Lane,  isn't  afraid  of  any  man 
alive!" 

Silence  followed  this  outburst,  while  Sally  regarded 
each  of  the  men  defiantly.  Lady  Pamela,  whom  she 
seemed  almost  to  ignore,  had  instinctively  drawn 
away  a  little. 

The  Earl  of  Dorset,  his  round  face  filled  with  the 
frankest  admiration,  was  the  first  to  speak.  "And 
you  can  do  it,  Mistress  Temple,"  he  declared.  "You'll 
so  bewitch  Romsey  that  he  won't  have  time  to  think 
of  this  or  that  or  t'other.  Oh,  I  know,  I  know !" 

Lord  Verney  sighed.     "I  wish  I  were  to  live  in 


26       THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

Cumnor  in  the  Marquis's  place!"  said  he,  casting 
regretful  eyes  at  Sally. 

Sir  John,  however,  shrewder  than  the  rest,  was 
frowning  and  rubbing  his  cheek.  "Be  gentle  with 
him,  Sally,"  he  entreated.  "Let  sleeping  dogs  lie. 
It's  ill  to  rouse  an  unknown  man  too  far." 

The  mocking  lights  in  the  girl's  eyes  changed 
to  an  injured  glance.  "You  think  me  apt  to  be 
rude  and  forward,  Sir  John?"  At  the  moment  she 
was  the  very  picture  of  simplicity,  so  naive  and 
ingenuous  that  Lady  Pamela  pressed  her  hand.  "Are 
you  very  sure,"  said  the  lady,  "that  you  want  to 
do  this?" 

Sally  smiled  at  her.  "I  think  it  will  be  delicious. 
I'll  play  the  part  better  than  any  I've  done  at  Drury 
Lane.  Don't  be  concerned  for  me,  my  lady." 

With  that  she  rose.  "Sir  John  will  see  to  the 
business.  He's  my  new  manager,"  she  continued. 
She  shook  her  head  at  the  three  cronies.  "Ogres 
don't  eat  women  nowadays,  you  know,"  said  she,  "and 
Little  Red-Riding  Hoods  don't  come  from  London 
Town." 

"I'll  attend  to  all  the  business,"  said  Sir  John, 
"and  call  at  Charles  Tree's  to-morrow  noon  for  a  note 
from  his  lady  to  the  housekeeper  at  Cumnor."  He 
offered  his  arm  to  Sally. 

The  girl  nodded  to  Lady  Pamela  and  the  three 
men,  and,  taking  Sir  John's  arm,  bore  away,  as 
graceful  as  a  sloop  upon  a  summer  sea. 


TURTLE-DOVES  IN  VAUXHALL         27 

The  three  men  watched  her,  until  the  lady  gently 
pulled  at  Mr.  Tree's  sleeve.  "The  coach  must  be 
waiting  by  now,  Charles,"  she  suggested. 

The  girl  and  the  gallant  swept  through  the  gate 
of  the  Gardens.  "Are  you  angry  with  me,  Sally?" 
asked  Sir  John. 

"Why,  Jack,  why  should  I  be  angry?  Haven't  you 
helped  me  to  a  star  part?" 

"I  don't  know  why.  But  from  what  you  said  about 
elegant  gentlemen,  looking  at  me,  and  the  way  you 
said  it  — " 

She  glanced  at  him,  and  smiled.  The  cherries  on 
her  straw  hat  bobbed.  "So  that's  it,  eh,  Jack?  Oh, 
dear  me !  Some  day,  when  we've  nothing  better  to  do, 
I'll  teach  you  the  first  letters  of  the  sex's  alphabet, 
when  a  girl's  in  earnest,  when  she's  not,  and  so  forth. 
It's  something  you  should  know." 

"I  wish  I  could  teach  you  something,  Sally,"  said 
he.  "Can't  you  look  a  little  more  kindly  on  poor  me?" 

"And  do  lovers  send  their  ladies  into  danger?"  she 
asked  mischievously. 

"I  wish  I  hadn't  suggested  it,"  he  said.  "I  don't 
want  you  to  be  under  the  same  roof  with  that  man. 
Let's  tell  them  you  won't  do  it." 

"And  spoil  their  honeymoon — and  my  lark!"  she 
protested.  "I  thought  there  was  more  sport  in  you, 
Jack." 

"Where  you're  concerned  I'm  like  water,"  said  he. 

"Then  I  must  be  adamant  for  the  two  of  us,"  she 


28      THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

retorted,  laughing.     "Come,  Jack,  smile.     It'll  be  a 
merry  game,  and  I'm  eager  for  it!" 

Sir  John  was  forced  to  put  up  with  that  conclusion, 
and  in  the  sunshine  of  Sally's  charming  company  such 
misgivings  as  had  occurred  to  him  quickly  winged 
away. 


THE  LADY  GOES  TO  CUMNOR 

dwellers  in  Pump  Lane  were  largely  out-of- 
doors  when  Sir  John  Gorham  brought  Sally 
home.  Children  played  in  the  street,  men  sat  in  the 
doorways  of  their  dwellings,  women  leaned  from  win- 
dows to  secure  better  views,  and  sweethearts  whis- 
pered and  laughed  and  looked  unutterable  things 
without  regard  for  any  audience.  Taken  all  in  all, 
the  Lane,  from  its  upper  end  in  the  high  street  to 
its  lower  end  in  Pump  Court,  was  very  much  like  any 
other  slice  of  the  world.  There  were  publicans  and 
Pharisees,  philosophers  and  fauns,  Dame  Grundys, 
and  a  Columbine  or  two.  Yet,  as  a  whole,  the  Lane 
thought  well  of  Sally  Temple.  It  should  have,  in  all 
conscience,  for  Sally  always  thought  most  highly 
of  it. 

There  were  women,  to  be  sure,  who  murmured  that 
Sally  was  no  better  than  she  should  be,  not  so  good 
perhaps.  But  that  opinion  was  probably  due  to  her 
hair,  that  shone  like  gold  and  caught  men's  eyes  like 
gold  when  she  walked  in  the  Lane  uncovered,  her  eyes 

that  danced  when  she  was  merry,  and  were  always 

29 


30      THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

filled  with  light,  her  fair  smooth  skin,  and  her  lips 
that  loved  to  smile.  More  than  that,  she  was  of 
slender,  supple  figure,  had  an  instinctive  knack  for 
dressing,  and  was  an  actress,  when  comedies  were 
playing,  at  Drury  Lane.  Yet  more,  Sally  was  un- 
derstood to  be  popular  with  certain  gentlemen  who 
hailed  from  St.  James's,  and  to  have  made  excursions 
into  that  frivolous  world  that  lay  in  the  west  of  Lon- 
don. Therefore  some  shook  their  heads  and  whis- 
pered that  it  was  easier  for  any  other  woman  in  the 
Lane  to  reach  Heaven  than  for  Sally  Temple. 

Sir  John  Gorham  and  Sally  descended  from  the 
coach  in  the  high  street,  and  turned  into  the  narrower 
thoroughfare.  The  gentleman  walked  by  the  young 
woman's  side,  not  as  other  young  men  walked,  hig- 
glety-pigglety  as  it  were,  but  with  an  air  that  was 
at  once  deferential  and  protecting.  More  heads 
appeared  at  windows,  and  a  number  of  doorways 
stopped  their  chatter.  A  gentleman  was  seeing  Sally 
home,  a  gentleman  who  wore  a  great  silk  stock  about 
his  throat,  and  a  claret-colored  coat  with  yellow  Hes- 
sians, and  who  spoke  and  laughed  not  loudly,  but  in 
a  genteel  way. 

"Poor  Sally,"  said  Mistress  Kilgore  to  her  hus- 
band, "she'll  be  scorching  her  pretty  fingers,  or  I 
much  misdoubt!"  But  the  worthy  carpenter  shook 
his  head  dubiously.  "I'll  back  Sally  to  scorch  the 
gentleman's  first,"  said  he. 

They  came  to  the  little  door  of  Sally's  home,  and 


THE  LADY  GOES  TO  CUMNOR         31 

Sir  John  took  off  his  hat.  "It's  settled  then,"  said 
he.  "Day  after  to-morrow  I  come  for  you  at  ten 
with  my  chariot  and  take  you  down  to  Cumnor.  Lady 
Pam  is  about  your  height,  and  she  left  great  chests 
of  clothes  behind  her.  Buy  what  you  need  to- 
morrow." Here  he  pressed  some  gold  pieces  into  her 
hand  so  deftly  that  Mistress  Kilgore,  although  she 
lived  directly  across  the  way,  thought  he  was  only 
bidding  Sally  an  affectionate  farewell. 

For  one  moment  Sally  weakened.  "Can  I  really 
do  it,  Jack?"  she  asked.  "Can  I  really  play  such  a 
lady?" 

"Can  you?  Could  you  fail  in  anything?  There's 
not  a  lady  in  London  wouldn't  barter  her  graces  for 
your  beauty,  Sally." 

She  interrupted  his  ardor.  "I'm  only  a  passable 
actress  after  all,  Jack."  She  looked  at  him  very 
straight.  "You  see  I  am  town  born  and  bred.  I  love 
these  streets,  and  the  crowds  of  people  in  them.  I'm 
afraid  I'll  be  lonely  in  the  country,  with  nobody  to 
keep  me  company.  A  lady  can't  consort  with  milk- 
maids, can  she?" 

Sir  John  saw  his  chance,  and  jumped  at  it.  "Then, 
Sally,  I'll  go  down  to  Surrey  too.  I'll  keep  watch, 
and  see  you  whenever  I  can.  Maybe  Romsey  won't 
forbid  me  his  house  as  he  did  Charles.  If  he  doesn't 
I'll  keep  you  company." 

"That  would  be  a  great  comfort.  Don't  forget, 
Jack.  Good-night." 


32      THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

"Good-night,  my  lady."  Sir  John  bent  and  kissed 
her  mittened  hand.  Then  the  gentleman  returned 
down  the  Lane,  the  cynosure  of  all  eyes. 

Sally  unlocked  her  door,  crossed  a  tiny  hall,  and 
entered  the  low-ceilinged  and  small-windowed  room 
that  fronted  on  the  street.  By  what  light  filtered 
through  the  little  panes  a  man  was  reading  a  book. 
He  was  young;  but  his  face  was  pale  and  careworn. 
Long  black  hair  was  brushed  away  from  a  broad 
brow,  and  his  eyes,  large  and  dark,  shone  as  he  looked 
up  at  Sally.  At  the  back  of  the  room,  by  an  open 
window  that  gave  on  to  an  infinitesimal  court,  sat  a 
woman  drinking  a  cup  of  tea. 

Sally's  straw  hat,  with  the  cherries  on  it,  was  flung 
upon  a  settle.  "Such  a  day !"  she  exclaimed,  "such  a 
day!  And  you  there,  Kate,  with  your  dish  o'  tea 
just  as  usual." 

"You're  late  to  sup,  Sally,"  said  the  woman.  "We 
waited  until  sundown." 

"Dearie  me,  I  wish  we  supped  when  the  gentry  do. 
It's  the  sweetest  hour  of  the  day  to  be  abroad.  I've 
been  to  Vauxhall  Gardens.  No,  never  you  mind,  Kate, 
I  can  get  what  I  want  myself." 

So  she  did,  frying  a  slice  of  ham  over  the  glowing 
embers  on  the  hearth,  dishing  out  vegetables  from  the 
pot  on  the  hook,  and  pouring  a  cup  of  tea.  As  she  sat 
at  the  table  she  talked.  "I  went  out  to  Vauxhall  with 
George  Willis.  He  tells  me  there'll  soon  be  a  new 
piece  at  Drury  Lane,  and  he'll  try  to  get  me  a  good 


THE  LADY  GOES  TO  CUMNOR         33 

place  in  it.  He's  so  devoted.  We  had  cherry  tarts 
and  little  round  French  cakes.  You  should  have  seen 
the  roses,  Kate!  And  oh,  Gilly,  he  pointed  me  out  a 
French  poet  there.  I've  forgot  the  name,  but  Willis 
says  he's  quite  the  fashion." 

"It  wasn't  Willis  brought  you  home,"  said  Gilbert 
Stanes. 

"So  you  were  watching,  then  ?  I  thought  you'd  no 
eyes  for  what  went  by  in  the  Lane." 

"This  was  a  gentleman." 

"Yes,  so  he  was.  He  carried  me  off  from  Willis, 
and  he  brought  me  home.  Did  you  notice  his  manner 
of  bowing,  Gilly,  dear?"  Sally  rose  from  the  table, 
and  pretended  to  sweep  a  hat  from  her  head  as  she 
bent  to  the  waist.  "It  was  Sir  John  Gorham.  He's 
a  merry  gentleman  and  thinks  himself  very  wise ;  and 
when  he  purses  his  lips  so,  and  wrinkles  up  his  eyes 
so,  and  says  'I  must  consider,'  why,  other  folks  think 
him  wise  too.  But  often  I  have  to  laugh  at  him." 

"Men  aren't  always  so  simple  as  you  think  them, 
Sally,"  said  Gilbert,  glancing  through  the  window, 
"and  these  gentlemen  have  little  to  do  but  plan  how 
to  flatter  women." 

"There  now,  listen  to  my  nephew !  Gilly,  don't  you 
think  I'm  a  match  for  any  of  them?" 

Gilbert  regarded  his  pretty  young  aunt  with 
gravity.  "You  are  to-day,  Sally,"  said  he,  "but  some 
day  one  of  them  might  mean  mc?e  to  you,  and  then — 
you'll  not  be  so  well  protected." 


34      THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

Sally  blushed.  "Oh,  it  will  never  be  one  of  these 
gentlemen!  They  may  have  my  smiles,  that's  an 
actress's  wares,  but  my  heart — oh,  la,  that's  quite  a 
different  matter !" 

Thereupon  she  turned  to  the  table  and  soon  had 
it  cleared,  and  the  supper  dishes  washed  and  put 
away.  Kate,  her  older  sister,  a  woman  gifted  with  a 
tongue  of  silence,  finished  her  tea,  and  went  above- 
stairs  to  her  own  chamber. 

The  room  was  now  so  dark  that  Gilbert  could  no 
longer  see  to  read,  and  shut  the  book  on  his  knees. 
His  reflective  eyes  seemed  to  be  studying  the  Lane. 
Meantime  Sally  was  busy  with  a  dozen  small  domestic 
tasks,  seeing  to  the  fire  on  the  hearth,  putting  away 
her  cherry  hat,  ordering  the  household  for  the  night. 
Presently  she  stopped  in  front  of  a  small  mirror  that 
hung  near  the  rear  window.  There  was  just  enough 
twilight  for  her  to  see  herself.  She  put  up  her 
hands  to  her  hair,  loosened  it,  drew  the  long  strands 
through  her  fingers,  and  •  then  wound  it  in  a  new 
pattern. 

There  were  two  windows  looking  into  the  Lane,  and 
when  Sally  had  finished  with  the  mirror,  she  placed  a 
high-backed  chair  by  the  casement  opposite  Gilbert's, 
and  sat  down.  She  glanced  at  the  young  man's  face, 
seeming  to  consider  some  project.  Although  he  was 
the  son  of  her  sister  Kate,  he  was  Sally's  own  age, 
and  they  were  confidants.  In  addition,  he  was  the 
only  man  in  the  household. 


THE  LADY  GOES  TO  CUMNOR    35 

"I'm  going  to  talk  a  matter  over  with  you,  Gilly," 
she  said,  after  a  pause,  "because  I  can  trust  you  as  I 
would  myself.  So  you  think  I  take  too  much  hazard, 
do  you?" 

"I  know  you  are  very  pretty,  and  I  know  that  men 
are  always  hunting  beauty." 

"That  has  the  smack  of  your  books  to  it,  Gilly. 
We  must  all  take  some  chances.  Are  you  really 
afraid  for  me?" 

"Should  I  be  sitting  quiet  if  I  were,  Sally?" 

Her  eyes  shone.  "Thinking  of  you  has  helped  me 
a  great  deal  before  this.  And  now  promise  that  you 
won't  tell  what  I'm  about  to  do." 

He  nodded  his  head.  "If  you  want  me  to,"  he 
agreed. 

Sally  looked  through  the  window.  She  could  see 
Mistress  Kilgore,  across  the  way,  talking  at  her  door 
to  a  tall,  sturdy  youth.  "There's  Elihu  Knott,"  said 
Sally.  "Remember  how  we  all  used  to  play  in  the 
Lane  together?  When  I  meet  Elihu  now  he  acts  as  if 
he  were  affrighted  of  me.  Gilly,  I  don't  know  how  to 
begin.  It's  a  most  surprising  story.  I'm  going  into 
the  country  for  a  month  or  so,  to  take  the  place  of 
Lady  Pamela  Vauclain  at  Cumnor  Castle.  What  do 
you  say  to  that?" 

"I  don't  understand." 

"Lady  Pamela  Vauclain  has  run  away,  and  mar- 
ried Mr.  Charles- Tree.  Her  guardian-cousin,  the 
Marquis  of  Romsey,  who  hasn't  seen  her  since  she  was 


a  babe,  hates  Mr.  Tree,  and  forbade  her  to  wed  him. 
The  Marquis  is  coming  home  from  Italy,  and  Mr. 
Tree  and  his  bride  want  to  gain  a  little  time  to  pro- 
tect some  property  and  set  matters  straight.  They 
want  to  have  a  Lady  Pamela  to  welcome  him ;  and  I'm 
to  be  the  lady." 

Gilbert  stared  at  his  aunt  through  the  dusk. 
"They  must  be  mad,  Sally!  What  could  a  girl  of 
Pump  Lane  do  with  such  gentry?" 

"I'm  to  be  well  paid,  Gilly,  dear." 

"But  the  risk,  Sally!  Think  of  that,  when  this 
Marquis  finds  you  out !  He  might  have  you  sent  to 
gaol,  or  worse,  for  such  a  trick  as  that." 

"No,  I  think  not,  Gilly.  He  would  keep  it  secret. 
At  first  I  thought  as  you  did,  when  they  spoke  of  it — 
until,  well,  until  four  gentlemen  and  a  lady  considered 
I  couldn't  do  it,  couldn't  play  the  part  of  such  a 
lady,  wouldn't  dare  to  front  such  a  man.  Then  I  felt 
I  had  to  do  it,  Gilly,  I  had  to  do  it !  It  wasn't  in  me 
to  let  them  flout  me  so !" 

Gilbert's  face  was  more  concerned  than  ever.  "Oh, 
Sally,  I'm  terrible  afraid  of  what  may  happen  to 
you." 

"I'm  not,"  she  answered  stoutly.  "When  you  think 
of  it  seriously  it's  no  more  of  a  risk  than  any  woman's 
life  at  any  playhouse.  The  Lady  Pamela  is  a  soft, 
gentle  creature.  No  one  would  think  of  harming  her ; 
nor  would  they  me." 

"These  nobles  are  wayward  men,  not  like  us  simple 


THE  LADY  GOES  TO  CUMNOR         37 

folk.  I'm  afraid  of  them,  and  hate  them.  What  is 
this  Marquis  like?" 

Sally  hesitated.  She  looked  through  the  window 
reflectively,  the  ghost  of  a  smile  on  her  lips.  "He's 
been  in  Italy  so  long  that  they  know  very  little  of 
him,"  she  answered  vaguely. 

Gilbert  twisted  his  book  about  in  his  hands.  He 
had  something  of  his  mother's  gift  of  silence,  which 
made  his  words  the  more  weighty  when  he  spoke.  "I 
don't  know  much  of  the  world,  it's  true,"  said  he,  "a 
clerk  who  spends  the  daytime  over  figures.  But  I 
know  the  gulf  between  Pump  Lane  and  St.  James's. 
You're  a  dear  woman  to  us  here,  but  there  you're  only 
a  plaything,  something  to  be  toyed  with,  and  thrown 
away  at  last.  There  are  a  dozen  men  here  who  want 
to  wed  you,  Sally — honest  men  who  work.  There's 
Rob  Sloane,  the  draper's  clerk,  and  Stephen  Tarn- 
worth.  He  may  be  apothecary  himself  some  day. 
God  knows  I  don't  want  you  married  yet,  but  I'd 
rather  you  were  than  take  such  a  risk  as  you  run." 

"They  are  good  men,  Gilly,  both  Stephen  and  Rob ; 
though  none  sc  good  as  you.  But  I  can't  take  up 
with  one  of  them,  and  live  peaceful-like  to-day  nor  to- 
morrow. I  must  have  more,  Gilly ;  I  must  see  some- 
thing more  first.  If  I  were  tired  or  lonely  I'd  be 
glad  of  such  a  one  to  lean  on ;  but  I'm  not.  I'm  young 
and  strong,  and  I've  an  appetite.  Oh,  Gilly,  it  would 
be  tragic  to  have  such  an  appetite  and  starve  with  it !" 

"The  first  tragedy  was  when  Eve  ate  the  apple." 


38      THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

"I  wonder?  I  should  have  done  the  same  as  she, 
willy-nilly."  Sally  drew  her  chair  nearer  to  Gilbert's, 
so  near  that  she  could  put  her  hands  on  the  book  in 
his  lap.  Her  eyes  danced.  "I  like  you  serious,  dear. 
It's  a  man's  part  to  be  so;  but  it's  the  dregs  in  the 
cup  for  a  woman,  after  all  the  wine's  drunk." 

He  gazed  at  her  lovely  face  so  near  him,  and  he 
understood  quite  easily  how  it  was  she  felt.  His  eyes, 
like  those  of  a  dumb,  patient  animal,  were  very  ten- 
der. "I'm  no  priest,  and  even  a  crippled  clerk  can 
have  his  longings.  You  were  made  to  live,  Sally,  and 
I  can  only  pray  God  you  come  through  it  safely." 

So  they  sat  for  a  moment.  Then  Sally  rose,  went 
to  the  dresser,  and  lighted  a  candle.  "I  shall  tell 
Kate,"  she  said,  "that  I've  got  a  part  to  play  for  a 
short  time  in  the  provinces.  Only  you  know  where 
I'm  really  going.  When  I  come  back  I'll  have  fine 
tales  to  tell  you  of  my  lady." 

"Cumnor's  in  Surrey,  isn't  it?"  said  Gilbert.  "If 
you  need  help  send  for  me,  Sally.  I'll  make  them 
treat  you  fair." 

"Indeed,  and  I  know  you  will." 

Gilbert  picked  up  the  crutch  that  lay  by  his  chair, 
for  he  was  lame,  got  to  his  feet,  and  carried  his  book 
to  a  shelf  beside  the  door.  "It  will  be  lonely  here  for 
a  month,"  said  he. 

Sally  put  her  hands  on  his  shoulders  as  she  kissed 
him.  "The  Lord  keep  you.  I'll  say  that  every  even- 
ing. Good-night,  dear." 


THE  LADY  GOES  TO  CUMNOR         39 

With  that  she  turned  away,  and  went  upstairs  to 
bed. 

Night  settled  over  Pump  Lane,  and  as  it  grew  too 
dark  to  watch  events  from  doorsteps  and  from  win- 
dows the  people  went  to  bed,  having  no  longer  light 
enough  to  read  the  only  book  most  of  them  knew. 
Rushlights  flickered  a  little  time  and  went  out.  Soon 
only  the  Bear  and  Staff  in  the  court  at  the  end  of  the 
Lane  was  alight,  and  the  taproom  there  the  only  oasis 
in  a  desert  of  sleep. 

In  the  west  of  London  the  Duchess  of  Devonshire 
gave  a  rout.  While  Pump  Lane  slumbered  St. 
James's  danced  the  quadrille,  gambled  at  ecarte, 
laughed  and  flirted  and  supped.  There  went  Sir  John 
Gorham,  Lord  Verney,  and  the  Earl  of  Dorset,  and 
there  the  three  met  in  a  corner  of  the  great  gold 
dining-room  and  had  their  gossip  over  a  bowl  of 
punch.  But  they  held  their  tongues  discreetly  when 
others  drew  near,  and  were  silence  itself  so  far  as  the 
ending  of  the  episode  in  Vauxhall  Gardens  was  con- 
cerned. 

Meantime  the  real  Lady  Pamela  and  her  Charles 
Tree  had  driven  out  of  London  to  a  little  house  at 
Kew  that  belonged  to  the  bridegroom,  and  had  con- 
trived to  forget  that  there  were  other  people  in  the 
world  than  their  two  selves. 

Far  earlier  than  the  ladies  of  Her  Grace  of  Devon- 
shire's rout  rose  Sally  Temple  the  next  morning.  She 
threw  wide  her  window  and  looked  into  the  Lane.  But 


0      THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

the  Lane  was  up  before  her,  and  had,  in  fact,  been 
stirring  ever  since  dawn.  Over  the  way  William 
Kilgore  was  starting  for  his  day's  work  on  the  river, 
and  his  good  wife,  skirts  pinned  above  her  ankles,  was 
sweeping  the  dust  of  her  front  room  into  the  street. 

Sally  set  about  her  toilet.  Although  her  wardrobe 
was  small,  it  was  choice.  She  had  more  taste  than 
most  of  London's  great  ladies,  and  though  she  could 
not  resist  fixing  one  small  black  star  beside  the  dimple 
that  hovered  in  her  cheek,  she  was  content  with  one, 
and  did  not  set  a  constellation  as  many  ladies  would. 
Her  color  was  too  fresh  to  toy  with  art,  her  own 
fingers  tended  her  long  locks  as  well  as  a  hairdresser, 
her  gown  drew  attention  to  her  grace  of  figure  rather 
than  to  itself.  As  she  dressed  she  smiled  and  hummed 
a  little  tune.  This  day  would  she  go  forth  and  buy  a 
few  things  for  the  Lady  Pamela  Vauclain. 

When  she  went  downstairs  Gilbert  was  already 
gone  to  the  ofBce  in  Cheapside  where  he  clerked  all 
day.  Kate  was  at  the  table ;  good,  patient  Kate,  who 
had  taken  Sally  into  her  widow's  home  when  she  was 
a  child,  and  who  looked  upon  her  as  a  creature  of  far 
rarer  value  than  herself.  There  were  neighbors  who 
said  the  widow  Stanes  had  spoiled  her  sister.  If  she 
had  she  had  found  pleasure  in  it,  and  pleasure  was 
not  a  thing  to  be  declined.  She  gave  Sally  good- 
morning  with  a  smile,  and  helped  to  serve  her.  "Gilly 
left  a  message  for  you,"  said  she.  "He  said  if  you 
were  going  out  of  London  to  act  you  might  need  a 


THE  LADY  GOES  TO  CUMNOR 

little  money,  and  he'd  a  sovereign  for  you  in  his  box 
upstairs." 

"Good  old  Gilly !  I  am  going  out  of  London  for  a 
little  time,  but  the  manager  gave  me  some  money. 
That's  part  of  the  agreement,  Kate."  Sally  blew  the 
notion  lightly  away  as  if  of  small  moment. 

Later  Sally  went  forth,  Sir  John  Gorham's  gold  in 
the  bag  at  her  wrist.  She  traveled  into  the  confines 
of  that  magic  land  where  ladies  bought  their  plu- 
mage, and  she  bargained  shrewdly.  It  was  a  rare  ex- 
pedition, and  one  to  be  fully  enjoyed.  With  the 
satisfaction  of  a  huntsman  after  a  keen  day's  sport 
she  returned,  and  there  she  found  a  note  waiting  for 
her.  The  envelope  was  lavender,  and  it  was  sealed  with 
a  great  red  wafer.  Sally  retired  to  her  room  and 
opened  it.  "To  Mistress  Sally  Temple,"  she  read ;  "I 
think  it  likely  you  will  miss  society  at  Cumnor.  You 
being  used  to  town  and  its  pleasures  would  be  lonely  in 
the  empty  country.  I  have  a  female  relative  who 
lives  in  Surrey,  and  I  shall  go  down  there  now  so 
that  I  may  be  near  you.  Do  not  fear.  I  will  be 
within  reach,  and  together  we  can  keep  dullness  off. 
Will  you  not  be  kinder  to  me  in  the  country?  At 
least  give  me  the  chance  to  plead  the  cause  I  have 
so  much  at  heart.  You  are  the  very  paragon  of 
lovely  woman!  From  your  unhappy  servant,  Ver- 
ney." 

Sally  laughed.  Then  she  read  over  the  note  in  the 
romantic,  high-flown  manner  in  which  she  pictured 


42      THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

Lord  Verney  as  reciting  it.  *You  are  the  very  para- 
gon of  lovely  woman !"  she  repeated.  "So,  I'll  have 
two  strings  to  my  bow!  Faith,  and  I'll  have  some 
pleasure  with  the  two." 

Then  she  fell  to  work  lifting  the  laces  and  silks,  the 
kerchiefs  and  the  stockings  from  the  bundles  she  had 
brought  home.  Presently  she  packed  two  boxes  with 
her  goods,  ready  for  the  journey  on  the  morrow. 

Late  that  afternoon  a  stout  young  man  to  whom  a 
journey  to  Pump  Lane  always  seemed  as  strange  an 
experience  as  travels  to  the  Indies,  lifted  the  knocker 
that  hung  on  the  Stanes*  door,  and  rapped.  He 
always  had  the  feeling  that  some  hobgoblin  might 
leap  out  at  him,  and  so  his  relief  was  scarcely  to  be 
concealed  when  he  found  the  door  opened  by  the  very 
person  he  sought. 

The  Earl  of  Dorset's  face  had  been  likened,  by  one 
of  his  many  friends,  to  that  of  a  good-natured,  ruddy 
owl.  He  looked  not  unlike  that  now,  as  his  eyes 
blinked  before  the  sudden  appearance  of  Sally. 
"Lord  love  us!"  exclaimed  she.  "Who  would  have 
thought  to  find  your  lordship  standing  there?  And 
such  a  feeble  knocking!  Indeed  I  thought  likely  it 
was  old  Adam  come  to  beg  for  alms." 

The  Earl,  though  by  no  means  brilliant,  saw  an 
opening  for  him.  "It  is  Adam  begging  for  alms," 
said  he.  "One  of  those  smiles  that  dazzle  us  poor 
men  so." 

"And  would  you  be  content  with  that,  my  lord?" 


THE  LADY  GOES  TO  CUMNOR         43 

Sally  had  to  smile  at  him.  "Then  this  young  Adam 
is  easier  satisfied  than  the  old  one  we  hear  tell  of." 

"A  beggar  must  start  meekly,"  said  he.  "I  have 
had  you  in  mind  all  day.  I  can't  forget  how  you 
looked  at  me  in  the  Gardens,  how  your  eyes  shone  — 

"Gome  indoors,  my  lord.  The  Lane  isn't  used  to 
such  gestures." 

The  Earl  stepped  into  the  living-room,  but  would 
not  sit,  though  Sally  placed  a  chair  for  him.  He  felt 
more  at  ease  standing  up,  where  his  thoughts  and 
gestures  were  not  cramped  by  the  indolence  of  a 
chair. 

"You  were  saying  that  my  eyes  shone,"  prompted 
Sally,  mischievously. 

"Egad,  and  so  they  did !  I  never  admired  a  woman 
half  so  much.  You  could  have  done  what  you  would 
with  the  three  of  us,  and  with  Charles  Tree  too,  I 
daresay.  Do  you  hold  to  the  plan  on  second 
thoughts?" 

"Fie,  my  lord,  did  you  think  I  would  flinch?" 

The  Earl  flushed  apologetically,  and  stepped 
nearer.  His  voice  dropped,  and  his  eyes  grew  very 
eager. 

''This  is  the  matter,  dear  lady.  You  are  used  to 
town,  to  the  theatre,  to  supping,  to  the  Gardens,  to 
Kew,  and  all  the  joys  of  London.  In  the  country  it 
will  be  lonely.  I  know  how  it  is ;  I  go  there  at  times 
myself.  It  can  be  borne  when  there's  hunting,  but 
in  the  summer" — he  gestured  disapproval — "nothing 


44       THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

but  flowers,  and  birds,  a  solitary  canter,  a  stroll 
across  the  fields." 

"And  the  milkmaids  ?"  asked  Sally. 

"Dash  the  milkmaids !  Country  women  always  have 
big  hands." 

"La,  what  a  pity  !"  said  Sally,  lifting  her  fingers  to 
catch  a  lock  of  her  hair. 

"Nothing  but  out-of-doors,  and  a  deuce  too  much 
of  that !  You  would  perish  at  Cumnor  by  yourself." 

"You  forget  Lord  Romsey." 

"He!"  The  young  man  dismissed  him  with  an- 
other gesture.  "Most  likely  he'll  live  in  the  stables 
with  the  grooms."  The  Earl  came  still  nearer.  "I've 
a  place  not  very  far  from  Cumnor,  Holker  Hall.  I'm 
going  down  day  after  to-morrow.  Perhaps  the  time 
won't  pass  so  heavily  if  we're  together,  perhaps  you'll 
listen  to  me  there." 

"But  the  town  is  at  its  height,  my  lord,  and  you 
were  never  a  hermit." 

"I  never  had  such  a  desire  for  loneliness  before." 

Dared  by  her  shining  eyes,  the  little  Earl  rose  to  a 
flight  of  eloquence.  "Oh,  Sally,  I  wish  this  were 
one  of  those  Surrey  lanes!"  he  exclaimed,  and  held 
out  his  arms  beseechingly. 

Sally  drew  back  a  step.  "Don't  ride  too  fast, 
my  lord,"  she  cautioned.  "Remember  I'm  the  Lady 
Pamela  Vauclain,  with  a  dragon  to  guard  me." 

"I  shall  disregard  him." 

Sally  turned  away  and  looked  through  the  window. 


THE  LADY  GOES  TO  CUMNOR          45 

"Men  are  such  kittle-cattle,  such  weather-vanes,"  said 
she.  "Only  a  fortnight  since  I  heard  it  rumored  you 
were  to  wed  — ' 

"A  base  slander,"  protested  the  Earl. 

Sally  laughed.  "The  wind  blows  north,  blows  east, 
blows  south.  Well,  sir,  we  shall  see.  If  you  go  into 
the  country,  it  is  yourself  decides.  Don't  tax  me 
with  it,  pray." 

"It's  all  of  my  own  planning."  Thereupon  some- 
thing of  his  habitual  caution  returned  to  the  Earl. 
He  knew  that  he  should  have  a  month  with  his 
charmer  in  more  propitious  places  than  Pump  Lane. 
Some  members  of  her  family  might  appear  at  any 
moment,  and  he  had  no  wish  to  encounter  them.  "It's 
agreed  then.  We'll  meet  again  shortly,"  said  he, 
"and  under  happy  stars." 

Sally's  head  bent  demurely.  "As  you  will,"  she 
answered. 

She  followed  him  to  the  door,  and  shut  it  after  him. 
Then  she  ran  to  the  window  and  watched  him  march 
down  the  Lane,  as  proud  a  cock  of  the  walk  as  one 
could  wish. 

"Three  strings  to  my  bow,"  she  murmured  when 
he  had  disappeared,  "Sir  John,  thinking  himself  very 
shrewd  and  cunning;  this  little  Earl,  simple  as  a 
school-boy,  and  my  Lord  Verney,  strutting,  flaming, 
hot-headed.  With  the  three  I  shouldn't  be  lonely  in 
the  country.  Heigh-ho !  and  each  thinks  he  can  marry 
me  if  he  gets  me  alone  there." 


46      THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

When  Gilbert  came  home  Sally  was  there  to  greet 
him,  and  she  spent  the  short  evening  talking  to  him 
and  Kate.  She  was  up  betimes  next  morning  to  bid 
him  farewell,  and  she  whispered  in  his  ear  as  he  left, 
"Don't  be  afraid  for  me,  Gilly.  I'll  be  back  here  with 
you  before  the  moon's  new  again." 

It  was  a  radiant  young  woman  who  awaited  Sir 
John  at  ten  o'clock.  The  Lady  Pamela  at  Kew  would 
not  have  been  disappointed  in  her  substitute,  but 
might  have  envied  Sally's  face  and  dress.  "Lovely 
beyond  compare!"  exclaimed  Sir  John.  "Oh,  would 
I  were  a  poet!"  "Poets  must  be  busy  with  their 
pens,"  objected  Sally.  "True,"  said  he,  "and  my 
eyes  have  better  use  than  drawing  pothooks." 

Sir  John  bade  his  servant  convey  Sally's  boxes  to 
the  chariot  that  waited  in  the  high  street.  Meantime 
Sally  tied  the  strings  of  her  cherry  bonnet  in  a  bow 
beneath  her  chin.  To  do  that  she  had  to  look  down, 
and  Sir  John,  seeing  they  were  alone,  tried  to  kiss 
her.  Her  right  hand  stopped  him  short.  "Fie,  Sir 
John,  is  it  so  you'd  treat  the  Lady  Pamela  Vauclain?" 

"But  Sally—"  he  protested. 

"There  is  no  Sally  now,"  said  she  severely.  "And  if 
any  foolish  Jack  comes  this  way  looking  for  kisses 
he'll  be  straight  sent  about  his  business.  Kisses  are 
for  milkmaids."  And  no  patrician  lady  could  have 
held  him  off  with  more  disdain. 

"Milkmaids!  My  word!  I  swear  that  several 
ladies—" 


THE  LADY  GOES  TO  CUMNOR          47 

"No,  Sir  John.  You  may  swear  you  have  kissed 
all  the  Duchesses  in  the  kingdom,  but  you  may  not 
treat  the  Lady  Pamela  so."  Then,  at  sight  of  his 
discomfited  face,  she  relented.  "The  Lady  Pamela, 
Jack,  is  a  quiet,  cloistered  girl.  If  I'm  to  play  the 
part  I  must  step  carefully.  You  must  see  that  for 
yourself." 

The  servant  reported  the  boxes  securely  bestowed, 
and  Sir  John  escorted  his  lady  down  the  Lane.  In 
the  high  street  stood  the  chariot,  a  groom  holding 
two  sleek  bays.  Sir  John  handed  the  lady  up,  and 
climbed  beside  her.  The  groom  sprang  to  his  seat  in 
the  rumble. 

Sir  John  was  a  noted  whip,  ancfn'e  sent  his  bays 
through  the  crowded  streets  of  lower  London  with 
high-bred  disregard.  Over  the  Thames  they  sped, 
and  struck  into  the  great  road  leading  south. 

The  day  was  superfine,  and  the  country  sweet  with 
June.  Two  hours'  drive  frgom  London  they  stopped 
at  the  Lavender  Bush,  and  there  had  luncheon  in  a 
private  room.  Then  on  southward  through  Surrey 
until  the  sun  was  sinking  in  the  west,  and  the  meadows 
were  softening  with  the  creeping  shadows. 

At  last  they  sighted  Cumnor,  on  a  rise  of  ground. 
Its  Tudor  walls  stood  high,  looking  far  over  the 
circling  park.  Sir  John  turned  at  the  gates,  and 
drove  upward.  Presently  he  was  handing  Sally  to 
the  stepping-stone. 

Doubtless  she  was  frightened  at  the  prospect ;  she 


48      THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

a  girl  of  Pump  Lane  to  be  the  chatelaine  of  such 
a  mansion.  But  she  did  not  show  it,  and  laughed 
lightly  as  Sir  John  said,  "Here  you  are  at  last,  safely 
home  again." 

He  had,  as  he  had  promised,  seen  to  everything. 
He  had  letters  to  the  housekeeper  and  steward,  signed 
by  the  lady  at  Kew,  and  sealed  with  her  signet.  These 
bade  them  regard  the  newcomer  as  Lady  Pamela 
Vauclain  herself.  Better  than  this,  he  had  gold,  and 
with  it  he  speedily  contrived  to  change  the  vision  of 
every  inmate  of  the  house,  of  every  dependent  of 
Cumnor,  so  that  they  saw  in  Sally  the  only  lady  they 
had  ever  known.  Thus  it  came  about  that  they  all 
were  ready  to  declare  that  their  Lady  Pamela  had 
never  left  Cumnor,  but  was  dutifully  awaiting  the 
arrival  of  her  guardian  from  oversea. 

Sally  went  to  bed  a  little  frightened,  though  she 
told  herself  a  hundred  times  that  she  had  nothing 
to  fear.  Virtue,  attended  by  beauty  and  wit,  was 
surely  amply  guarded. 


in 

BOMSEY  MEETS  HIS   WARD 

T  TP  rose  the  sun,  and  not  long  after,  the  new  chate- 
^-'  laine  of  Cumnor  wakened.  From  the  high  view- 
point of  her  bed  she  surveyed  the  room,  a  much  larger 
and  more  elegantly  furnished  apartment  than  she  had 
owned  in  Pump  Lane.  Three  windows,  placed  closely 
together  across  from  the  bed,  gave  a  large  picture 
of  trees,  colored  with  the  brilliant  lights  of  early 
morning.  And  through  an  open  casement  came  the 
song  of  a  lark.  Or  was  it  a  cuckoo?  Or  perhaps  a 
thrush?  Lady  Pamela  had  no  idea ;  but  she  was  glad 
to  hear  it,  for  company's  sake. 

Against  the  walls  of  the  room  stood  two  ward- 
robes and  two  chests  of  drawers,  each  of  them  big 
enough  to  have  been  used  as  a  fortress.  Sally 
doubled  her  right  arm  under  her  head  so  that  she 
might  view  them  better.  But  the  prospect  was  too 
tantalizing.  Soon  she  had  slipped  out  of  bed,  thrust 
her  feet  into  slippers  and  her  arms  into  a  wadded  silk 
dressing-gown,  and  was  headed  on  a  tour  of  explora- 
tion. 

Picture  Cortez  coming  upon  an  Aztec  treasure- 
49 


50      THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

house  lined  with  pearls  and  emeralds,  amethysts  and 
opals,  and  a  score  of  other  dazzling  gems.  Then  you 
may  understand  a  little  of  this  lady's  feelings  as  she 
opened  the  wardrobes  and  pulled  out  the  drawers  of 
chests.  She  had  a  passion  for  fine  raiment,  and  she 
had  lived  in  Pump  Lane  all  her  life.  She  touched  one 
garment  after  another,  gossamer  things  of  silk  and 
lace  and  rare  linen,  and  she  thought  how  this  would 
become  her  and  how  she  would  feel  in  that.  For  fully 
half  an  hour  she  tasted  raiment  like  an  epicure,  and 
then  she  moved  on  to  the  dressing-table,  laden  with 
its  armory  for  my  lady's  toilet,  and  to  the  cabinet 
that  held  rings  and  necklaces,  jewels  for  the  hair  and 
girdles  for  the  waist.  She  who  was  now  Lady  Pamela 
Tree  had  fled  on  the  impulse  of  the  moment,  trusting 
to  her  lover  to  find  her  beautiful  without  the  treasures 
that  she  left  behind.  The  newcomer,  fastening  a  neck- 
let of  gold  about  her  throat  as  she  stood  before  a 
mirror,  wondered  how  the  lady  could  have  done  it. 

Her  tour  brought  her  to  the  three  close-set  win- 
dows, built  into  a  thickness  of  the  walls,  beneath 
which  stretched  a  cushioned  seat.  Sally  knelt  on  this, 
and  looked  out.  Below  was  a  stone  terrace,  and  be- 
yond that  a  lawn,  smooth  as  a  green  carpet.  Her 
rooms  were  in  the  right  wing,  and  to  the  left  she  saw 
the  great  avenue  lined  with  beeches  by  which  they  had 
driven  to  Cumnor  the  night  before.  She  caught 
glimpses  of  other  lawns,  broken  with  shrubbery,  and 


51 

far  to  the  right,  beyond  a  hawthorn  hedge,  she  spied 
the  corner  of  a  flower-garden. 

It  was  quite  a  different  view  from  the  one  she  had 
from  her  window  in  Pump  Lane.  At  first  she  liked 
it,  letting  her  eyes  move  from  the  colors  of  the  lawn 
to  the  trees  and  from  the  trees  to  the  flowers.  Then 
she  wondered  how  she  could  endure  having  no  one  to 
watch  and  speculate  upon.  She  would  surely  weary 
of  hearing  the  larks  in  the  morning,  and  gathering 
roses  in  the  forenoon,  and  strolling  on  the  lawns  the 
rest  of  the  day.  She  yawned,  and  thereupon  she  re- 
crossed  the  room,  shook  off  slippers  and  gown,  and 
jumped  back  into  bed. 

She  was  dozing,  when  a  light  tap  at  the  door  waked 
her  again.  At  her  answer  the  door  opened,  and  a 
woman,  with  a  tray  in  her  hand,  entered. 

"Good-morning,  my  lady,  I  hope  you  rested  well," 
was  the  maid's  greeting. 

"What  o'clock  is  it?" 

"Eight,  Lady  Pamela.  Will  you  have  your  choco- 
late now?" 

The  lady  sat  up,  and  thrust  a  pillow  behind  her 
back.  "Of  course  I'll  have  my  chocolate.  Let  me 
see.  You're  — " 

"Rachel,  my  lady ;  Rachel  Trumpet." 

"Fetch  me  the  tray,  Rachel.  But  I've  slept  so 
well,  and  had  such  a  scant  bite  last  night,  that  I'm 
nearly  famished.  Are  there  herrings  in  the  larder?" 


52      THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

Rachel  looked  doubtful.  "There's  fresh  sole,"  said 
she. 

"Very  good,  sole,  and  three  or  four  strips  of 
bacon,  and  some  toast,  and — "  the  lady  considered, 
"and,  Rachel,  a  little  dish  of  sweets  besides." 

Rachel  bobbed  a  curtsey,  and  hurried  away. 

Lady  Pamela  had  a  surprisingly  good  appetite 
that  morning.  Rachel,  an  observant,  experienced 
tiring-maid  of  twenty  years'  service  with  gentility, 
could  not  recall  ever  having  seen  a  lady  so  hungry. 
Nor  a  lady  so  vividly  interested  in  her  toilet.  Her 
former  mistress  had  sipped  her  morning  chocolate 
almost  negligently,  and  chosen  her  apparel  quickly, 
but  this  one  breakfasted  with  relish,  and  threw  her- 
self into  the  matter  of  attire  with  ardor.  The  result 
justified  her,  Rachel  had  to  admit.  As  Lady  Pamela 
stood  completed,  one  arm  raised  to  make  certain  of 
the  security  of  her  crown  of  red-gold  hair,  Rachel,  on 
her  knees,  where  she  had  beerf  fixing  the  catch  of  a 
slipper-buckle,  looked  up  at  her.  "I  ask  your  par- 
don, my  ladyi  but  I  never  saw  another  as  could  wear 
such  a  yellow.  But  you  might  wear  any  color  in  the 
rainbow."  She  stood  up,  admiration  writ  large  in 
her  eyes. 

"You  think  so?"  Lady  Pamela  could  scarcely  re- 
frain from  bestowing  a  kiss  on  her  maid.  "Well,  it's 
a  pleasure  just  to  please  your  eyes,  though  there  be 
no  men  folk  within  twenty  miles." 

"His  lordship  is  expected  any  time  now,"  observed 


ROMSEY  MEETS  HIS  WARD  53 

Rachel.  "Gregory  says  he  may  be  here  this  very 
day." 

"His  lordship?"  Lady  Pamela  shrugged  her 
shoulders,  and  turned  to  the  dressing-table.  "I  meant 
young  men  with  eyes  to  their  heads.  Doubtless  his 
lordship  would  prefer  a  monastery." 

"Gregory  says  the  Marquis  will  likely  be  the 
strangest  nobleman  in  England,"  said  Rachel,  as  she 
picked  up  the  garments  Lady  Pamela  had  rejected. 
"He  says — but  there,  I  might  offend  my  lady's  ears." 

Instantly  the  lady  showed  her  curiosity.  "Don't 
mind  my  feelings,  Rachel.  What  did  Gregory  say?" 

The  maid  put  the  clothes  on  a  chair,  and  stood, 
her  arms  akimbo,  looking  at  her  mistress,  while  her 
round  eyes  and  heightened  color  bore  witness  to  her 
great  interest  in  the  subject. 

"He  says  the  Marquis  has  killed  a  dozen  men  in 
duels,  that  there's  no  one  in  Italy  can  better  him  in 
rapier-play,  drunk  or  sober." 

"Well,  that's  not  so  evil,"  said  the  lady. 

"And  that  on  a  wager  he  broke  into  a  nunnery, 
and  carried  off  the  handsomest  woman,  and  enter- 
tained her  at  his  castle  for  a  week." 

"And  did  she  go  back  to  the  nunnery  afterwards  ?" 

"Gregory  says  she  went  to  the  court  at  Rome,  and 
married  a  Prince." 

"Then  he  did  her  a  kindness,"  said  Lady  Pamela. 
"Come,  Rachel,  he's  not  so  bad." 

"But    Gregory    says    the    Marquis    wouldn't    be 


54,      THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

brooked  at  all.  If  any  man  thwarted  him  the  Mar- 
quis fought  him,  and  if  any  woman,  whether  she  were 
a  Princess  or  a  peasant,  caught  his  eye,  he  hunted 
her.  There  was  a  goldsmith's  daughter  who  was 
queen  of  the  carnival  at  Florence.  The  Marquis  saw 
her,  and  that  night  took  her  away  with  him — oh,  it's 
a  shocking  story !"  Rachel  blushed. 

"Shocking  indeed!"  said  her  mistress.  "Does 
Gregory  think  the  Marquis  will  fill  Cumnor  with 
ladies,  and  kill  off  all  the  men-folk?" 

"Oh,  Lady  Pamela !"  exclaimed  Rachel.  "If  half 
the  stories  are  true  he  must  be  a  monster." 

"No  doubt  he  is.  However,  neither  you  nor  I  were 
brought  up  in  a  convent,  Rachel."  Lady  Pamela 
went  to  the  window  and  looked  out  at  the  lawn. 
"Where  are  his  rooms  in  Cumnor?" 

"In  the  east  wing,  my  lady,  the  old  part.  It's  a 
good  walk  from  here." 

"So  much  the  better."  The  lady  shrugged  her 
shoulders.  "I  mean  to  forget  all  about  him.  Men 
are  only  dangerous  when  we  think  too  much  of  them." 

Lady  Pamela  spent  the  morning  in  learning  some- 
thing about  Cumnor.  She  cared  nothing  for  its  his- 
tory, which  was  long  and  varied,  the  castle  having  a 
Norman  keep  at  one  end  of  its  Tudor  walls.  She 
looked  through  her  own  apartments ;  the  sitting- 
room,  with  its  fine  view  to  the  west;  the  cabinet,  or 
writing  room,  with  a  few  shelves  of  books  ;  the  gallery, 
where  a  lady  might  walk  in  inclement  weather.  Then 


ROMSEY  MEETS  HIS  WARD  55 

she  proceeded  to  the  main  portion,  the  great  hall, 
semi-barbaric  in  dimensions,  with  its  hearth,  large 
enough  for  three  to  sit  abreast  on  either  side;  the 
dining-room,  paneled  in  oak,  with  a  small  musicians' 
gallery  at  the  farther  end ;  the  armory,  its  walls  hid- 
den under  shields  and  weapons  of  every  age  in  Eng- 
land's history;  the  portrait  gallery,  hung  with 
canvases  of  marquises  and  marchionesses  of  Romsey, 
the  subjects  of  Van  Dyke,  and  Lely,  and  Kneller,  and 
finally  the  chapel,  built  when  there  had  been  a  Bishop 
of  the  Roman  Church  numbered  in  the  family,  but 
now  relegated  to  an  occasional  service  by  the  village 
curate. 

Lady  Pamela  passed  through  these  glories  almost 
heedlessly.  What  had  she,  a  child  of  to-day,  to  do 
with  the  monuments  of  yesterday?  Why  should  she 
stop  before  a  lean-faced  gentleman  with  a  hook  nose, 
a  hawk  eye,  and  a  scar  on  his  right  cheek,  because  he 
was  painted  by  Sir  Godfrey  Kneller,  or  even,  for- 
sooth, because  he  had  won  the  name  of  "Butcher 
of  Romsey"  in  Ireland  in  the  days  when  William 
reigned?  She  did  not  stop  until  she  reached  the  oak 
door  that  led  from  the  great  hall  to  the  apartments 
in  the  eastern  wing.  There  she  faced  about  and 
hurried  over  the  rugs  to  the  entrance,  and  betook 
herself  out  of  doors. 

Cumnor's  head-gardener  found  the  new  Lady 
Pamela  eager  to  learn  about  flowers.  It  was  sur- 
prising, he  thought,  considering  how  much  the  lady 


56      THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

evidently  loved  them,  how  little  she  knew  of  them. 
But  he  judged  that  she  would  quickly  learn.  She 
picked  two  large  yellow  rosebuds  for  her  gown,  and 
she  asked  him  to  send  as  many  like  them  as  he  could 
spare  to  her  chamber  every  morning. 

The  groom  of  the  stables  was  amazed  to  see  Lady 
Pamela  bearing  down  upon  his  precincts.  He  shared 
the  feelings  of  the  gardener.  Her  ladyship  knew 
very  little  of  horses,  but  it  seemed  she  loved  them. 
She  praised  their  color  and  their  sleekness,  overlook- 
ing his  professional  comments.  Then  she  went  on  to 
the  kennels,  and  there  she  reveled,  for  she  had  known 
almost  all  breeds  of  dogs  in  Pump  Lane. 

The  admirable  Gregory,  who  waited  on  her  lady- 
ship at  dinner,  found  his  mistress  most  inquisitive. 
She  wanted  to  know  about  all  the  families  in  the 
neighborhood,  about  the  curate,  if  he  were  young  and 
good-looking,  about  the  village,  about  the  servants, 
even  about  himself.  Yet  she  did  full  justice  to  the 
cooking.  "My  compliments  to  cook,"  she  said  as  she 
finished,  "and  tell  her  I've  never  known  tripe  to  taste 
so  fine.  I'll  have  to  take  a  lesson  from  her  some  day." 
All  which  Gregory  later  reported  to  the  servants' 
hall,  adding  materially  to  the  stock  of  information 
Rachel  had  earlier  provided. 

The  afternoon  was  sultry,  and  Lady  Pamela  spent 
it  on  the  terrace,  trying  to  beguile  herself  with  a  bit 
of  embroidery.  But  she  had  never  been  very  fond  of 
the  needle,  using  it  only  when  she  was  obliged  to,  and 


ROMSEY  MEETS  HIS  WARD  57 

soon  she  was  yawning,  and  then  nodding,  and  in  be- 
tween times  yearning  for  town  and  her  own  kind. 
Presently  she  went  up  to  her  rooms  and  planned  an- 
other toilette.  She  was  not  to  be  defrauded  of  this 
pleasure,  even  if  there  were  no  one  to  see  her.  This 
time  she  chose  white,  without  any  ornaments  except 
one  of  the  yellow  rosebuds  fastened  at  her  breast.  So, 
later,  she  had  supper,  and  then  sat  in  a  chair  at  a 
window  of  the  great  hall,  watching  the  stars  being 
lighted  in  the  darkening  sky,  and  thinking  what  a 
poor  exchange  they  were  for  the  houses  over  the  way. 

It  was  full  night  when  Lady  Pamela  heard  the 
sound  of  wheels  on  the  driveway  outside.  She  peered 
a  little  closer  through  the  window,  but  the  starlight 
only  showed  her  a  heavy  chaise  and  two  horses.  Then 
she  heard  steps,  and  shortly  after  the  door  of  the 
hall,  which  had  been  left  slightly  open,  swung  wide. 
A  man  came  into  the  hall,  or  rather  strode  in,  for  he 
had  all  the  assurance  of  an  owner. 

Lady  Pamela's  gown  rustled  as  she  turned  in  her 
chair,  and  instantly  the  stranger's  eyes  were  bent 
upon  her.  He  appeared  to  her  to  be  very  tall,  al- 
though a  slenderness  of  body  might  have  had  some- 
thing to  do  with  that  impression.  In  spite  of  the 
June  air  he  wore  a  cloak,  of  dull  brown,  over  his  dark 
clothes,  and  a  broad-brimmed,  russet-colored  hat. 
When  he  removed  the  latter,  Lady  Pamela  saw  a 
face  of  Southern  coloring,  deep-set  eyes,  and  black 
hair  that  was  not  dressed  according  to  the  fashion. 


58      THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

"Who  are  you?"  the  man  asked  in  a  voice  that, 
although  low-pitched,  seemed  to  carry  a  great  dis- 
tance. 

She  almost  answered  "Sally  Temple;"  but  con- 
trived to  murmur,  "Pamela  Vauclain." 

"My  cousin,  then,"  stated  the  stranger  abruptly; 
and  he  stepped  to  her  chair,  lifted  her  right  hand,  and 
touched  it  with  his  cold  lips.  "I'm  Romsey.  And 
I'm  glad  to  see  you,  Pamela;  though  there's  little 
else  I'm  glad  of  in  this  foggy  country."  He  turned 
away,  and  flung  his  hat  and  cloak  on  a  chair. 
"Hola!"  he  shouted.  "Service  here,  lights,  fire, 
coals !" 

His  voice  echoed  in  the  great  hall,  and  almost  im- 
mediately the  servants  came  running.  One  touched  a 
lighted  taper  to  the  candles  in  their  sconces  on  the 
walls,  another  fired  the  hearth  logs,  a  third  closed  the 
great  hall  door,  a  fourth  picked  up  the  nobleman's 
hat  and  cloak,  and  Gregory,  the  major-domo,  stood 
before  the  new  arrival  and  asked  what  his  lordship 
would  have  for  supper. 

"I've  supped,"  said  Romsey,  "and  I've  drunk  suf- 
ficient of  your  reeking  English  claret.  Fetch  me  port 
wine  to  that  seat  by  the  fire." 

The  servants  scattered,  and  Romsey  walked  over 
to  the  arm-chair  he  had  chosen.  The  hall  was  well 
lighted  now,  and  the  lady  could  see  why  men  called  the 
Marquis  black.  His  hair  was  raven,  his  complexion 
dark,  he  wore  a  black  moustache  on  his  upper  lip,  a 


ROMSEY  MEETS  HIS  WARD  59 

little  tuft  of  black  in  the  center  of  his  lower  lip,  and, 
save  for  his  neckerchief,  all  his  costume  was  somber. 

He  sat  down  with  his  back  half  toward  her,  and  his 
profile,  angular,  and  positive  in  outline,  was  hers  to 
scan.  That  was  all  he  seemed  likely  to  give  her,  for 
after  Gregory  had  brought  the  port  wine  and  set  it 
on  a  table  by  the  arm-chair,  the  Marquis  sat  silent 
while  he  drank  three  glasses.  She  found  herself 
growing  almost  afraid  to  have  him  speak. 

Presently,  without  turning  his  head,  he  swung  out 
his  arm,  as  if  he  knew  she  must  be  watching  for  his 
orders.  "Come  over  here,"  he  said,  "and  sit  on  that 
stool  where  I  can  look  at  you." 

The  girl  was  not  used  to  commands,  except  such  as 
she  heard  at  Drury  Lane  Theatre,  and  there  they 
were  given  for  the  good  of  a  common  cause.  She 
hesitated;  but  eventually  she  went  over  to  the  stool 
between  Romsey  and  the  hearth,  and  sat  down. 

She  took  the  yellow  rosebud  from  her  gown  and 
began  playing  with  it.  Meantime  she  knew  the  man's 
eyes  were  resting  on  her,  and  she  felt  the  blood  sweep 
into  her  face.  She  pulled  a  petal  from  the  rose  and 
dropped  it  on  the  floor,  then  another ;  then  she  looked 
up  at  him.  The  black  depths  of  his  eyes  seemed  to 
glow  at  her. 

"You're  the  first  good-looking  thing  I've  seen  in 
England,"  he  stated.  He  did  not  smile,  and  she, 
with  a  sudden  quickening  of  breath,  looked  down  at 
the  rosebud  again.  "In  Italy  women  wear  their  hair 


60      THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

bound  tight.  I  like  your  way  better.  You  must  be 
twenty  years  old?" 

"Yes,"  she  answered  truthfully. 

Then  for  some  time  one  petal  after  another  fell  to 
the  floor  while  he  was  silent. 

"What  do  you  know  of  me,  cousin?"  he  asked 
presently. 

"Nothing." 

"And  you  care  less?" 

She  was  silent. 

"Why  should  you  care?"  he  considered  aloud.  "A 
man  who  is  only  a  name  here,  who  prefers  Italy  to 
England,  who  has  very  little  regard  for  his  own 
order,  or  for  the  matter  of  that,  for  anyone  or  any- 
thing." 

"You  must  be  very  melancholy,  my  lord;"  she 
glanced  up  at  him ;  "unless  you  care  for  people." 

He  might  not  have  heard  her,  to  judge  from  his 
look,  although  his  eyes  were  bent  upon  her.  "You 
are  religiously  inclined,  cousin?"  he  asked  after  a 
pause. 

She  shook  her  head. 

"Women  are  either  religious,  or  made  to  plague 
men,"  he  declared. 

"I  am  neither,"  she  answered. 

"What  of  Charles  Tree?  He  hasn't  been  men- 
tioned in  your  letters  lately." 

The  girl  smiled  at  the  fire.  "We  meet  very  rarely 
nowadays,"  said  she. 


ROMSEY  MEETS  HIS  WARD  61 

The  stillness  grew  oppressive.  Pamela  kept  her 
eyes  on  the  fire,  a  spell  seeming  to  have  settled  on  her. 
She  wanted  to  move,  to  get  up  from  the  stool,  which 
was  uncomfortable,  and  find  another  seat.  But  she 
felt  as  if  she  were  bound  where  she  was,  dominated  by 
something  in  this  brooding  man,  who  was  so  different 
from  any  she  had  known. 

A  log  broke,  and,  as  if  respited  by  the  sudden 
sound,  she  turned  her  head  toward  the  Marquis.  He 
was  not  looking  at  her.  Chin  on  hand,  he  was  staring 
into  the  fire.  She  imagined  that  there  were  fitful 
devils  in  his  dark  eyes. 

"At  Raconti  in  Tuscany  I  saw  few  women,"  he 
said,  half  to  himself,  half  to  her.  "I  had  my  fill  of 
them  when  I  went  to  the  Grand  Duke's  court  at  Flor- 
ence one  month  in  the  year.  I  hunted  in  the  moun- 
tains, bears  and  boars  and  such;  not  the  pheasants 
these  fine  English  shoot." 

"You  should  go  to  town,  my  lord.  You  can  find 
plenty  of  sport  of  every  kind  there,"  she  said,  think- 
ing to  rally  him. 

"Town?  London?  A  place  of  smug-faced  hypo- 
crites and  pirouetting  fools !  What  would  I  do  with 
such  people?" 

"You  could  choose  a  wife  there." 

He  looked  at  her,  and  for  the  first  time  his  lips 
parted  in  a  smile.  "A  wife?  And  so  have  a  woman 
always  by  me!  No,  cousin,  I  am  likely  to  find  my 
one  ward  here  quite  enough." 


62      THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

She  jumped  up  from  the  stool,  her  face  suddenly 
hot  with  anger.  "You'll  not  find  me  in  the  way,  I 
can  assure  you  of  that !"  she  cried.  "You  need  never 
know  there's  a  woman  near  you.  Live  any  way  you 
please." 

His  eyes  lighted,  though  he  did  not  move  from  his 
half-reclining  posture.  "On  my  word,  Pamela,  you 
have  some  spirit!  You're  better-looking  mad  than 
quiet." 

She  stood  straight,  though  his  words  and  manner 
made  her  quiver.  "In  England  women  are  more  than 
men's  playthings,"  she  said  hotly. 

"Ah,  that's  the  trouble  with  England."  He 
laughed,  a  trifle  scornfully.  "But  no  man  of  my 
family  ever  agreed  with  your  view." 

"Then  it's  high  time  some  one  forced  it  on  you." 

His  eyes,  really  gleaming  now,  took  in  her  hostile 
attitude  and  face.  "I  was  right.  I  like  you  better 
angry,"  he  declared. 

His  absolute  insolence  maddened  her.  "And  I  do 
not  like  you  in  any  way!"  said  she.  "You  are  cold 
and  bitter  and  selfish.  You  make  me  think  of  a  miser 
fingering  his  gold.  You  would  do  better  to  stay 
abroad." 

The  firelight  shone  behind  her,  setting  off  her  white 
gown,  her  flushed  cheeks,  her  angry  eyes,  her  glowing 
hair.  The  Marquis  stirred  in  his  chair,  sat  up 
straighter,  and  then  got  to  his  feet.  He  stood  before 
her,  seeming  to  tower  above  her  menacingly. 


ROMSEY  MEETS  HIS  WARD  63 

"Tell  me  that  you  hate  me,"  he  commanded,  his 
voice  low  and  clear. 

She  knew  that  some  evil  thought  was  in  him;  she 
knew  that  he  was  both  daring  and  threatening  her; 
but  she  could  no  longer  hold  herself  in  check.  Look- 
ing him  fairly  in  the  face  she  answered,  "Very  well. 
I  do  hate  you,  then !" 

Instantly  he  caught  her  hands,  and  in  spite  of  her 
struggles,  drew  her  close  to  him.  "This  is  a  real 
welcome  home!"  he  cried,  and  kissed  her  lips. 

She  tore  herself  free  and  sprang  back,  her  face, 
that  had  been  afire,  now  white  with  anger.  "Coward !" 
she  cried.  "To  take  me  all  alone !" 

He  was  calm  again,  except  for  the  gleam  in  his 
eyes.  "I  give  you  warning,  Pamela.  Hadn't  you 
better  leave  me  while  there's  time?" 

She  stood  her  ground  an  instant,  quivering  with 
rage.  "They  told  ill  tales  about  you,"  she  said,  "and 
I  thought  them  merely  gossip.  Now  I  do  believe 
them,  all  of  them !  You  are  a  monster.  But  I'd  have 
you  know  that  I'm  not  one  of  your  Italian  dolls,  but 
an  English  woman.  I  can  take  care  of  myself !"  Her 
eyes  met  his  evenly  for  a  moment.  Then  she  turned, 
and  walking  to  the  door  of  the  west  wing,  opened  it, 
and  hurrying  through  shut  it  behind  her.  She  stood 
back  of  it,  unnerved  with  her  anger.  After  a  moment 
the  stillness  calmed  her,  and  she  went  up  the  stairs  to 
her  own  rooms,  defiance  of  Cumnor  and  its  master  in 
her  face. 


IV 

THE   MASTERFUL   MAN   AT   HOME 

'""T'HE  Lady  Pamela  from  Pump  Lane  was  unques- 
•1  tionably  high-spirited  and  brave,  or  she  would 
never  have  agreed  to  go  to  Cumnor.  Moreover,  quite 
a  portion  of  her  time  since  she  had  turned  sixteen  had 
been  devoted  to  putting  young  men  in  their  proper 
places,  for  young  men  were  by  nature  presuming, 
though  rather  less  so  in  Cheapside  than  in  St. 
James's,  and  she  had  very  early  acquired  the  art  of 
repulsing  them  without  wounding  their  vanity  too 
greatly.  She  was,  perhaps,  as  talented  an  artist  at 
this  game  of  fence  as  she  was  an  actress.  She 
realized  at  once,  however,  that  this  new  man  from 
Italy  was  quite  different  from  any  she  had  known 
before. 

It  would  not  be  hard  to  state  her  opinion  of  Rich- 
ard Tressillian  Vauclain,  fifth  Marquis  of  Romsey. 
She  judged  that  his  heart  and  soul  were  as  black  as 
his  hair  and  eyes.  She  had  not  the  slightest  doubt 
that  he  had  used  men  and  women  for  his  own  evil  ends 
in  that  savage  Italy  of  his.  There  had  been  nothing 

tentative  in  his  grasp  of  her  hands,  nothing  concilia- 

64 


THE  MASTERFUL  MAN  AT  HOME      65 

tory  in  his  eyes.  It  had  mattered  nothing  to  him  that 
she  was  his  ward  and  cousin,  nothing  that  he  was  an 
English  nobleman  and  this  the  civilized  year  of  1770. 
He  was  a  law  to  himself,  and  such  autocrats  had 
hitherto  been  beyond  her  ken. 

The  lady  from  Pump  Lane,  her  eyes  unusually 
bright  with  anger,  got  herself  to  bed,  but  not  to  sleep. 
She  had  a  sudden  intense  longing  for  home,  for  the 
certainty  that  faithful  Kate  and  watchful  Gilly  were 
under  the  same  roof  with  her,  that  simple,  com- 
mon folk  were  asleep  in  houses  next  her  own  and 
across  the  way.  She  trusted  town  as  she  distrusted 
the  country.  She  felt  that  perhaps  she  had  put  her- 
self into  perils  she  did  not  understand,  and  it  took 
all  her  pride  to  keep  her  from  planning  to  escape 
from  them  as  quickly  as  she  could. 

The  sun  returned  to  Surrey,  and  at  last  awakened 
the  new  lady,  who  had  slept  in  spite  of  herself.  The 
great  four-post  bed  was  very  soft,  and  a  breeze  flut- 
tered the  curtains  at  the  windows.  She  felt  rested 
and  strong.  She  found  that  she  could  even  smile  at 
the  thought  of  what  had  happened  in  the  hall  the 
night  before.  The  Marquis  might  be  very  tall  and 
dark,  very  evil-hearted,  but  he  was  only  a  man,  and 
she  had  never  feared  a  man  yet.  Besides,  she  was  his 
cousin,  and  a  lady,  and  it  was  clear  that  all  she  had 
to  do  was  to  keep  him  at  a  proper  distance.  Spirited 
as  ever,  she  pulled  the  bell-rope  beside  the  bed  for 
Rachel,  and  prepared  to  indulge  her  taste  in  dress. 


66      THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

She  kept  to  herself  all  morning,  and  dined  in  her 
sitting-room.  She  decided  that  Lord  Romsey  could 
live  in  his  wing  of  Cumnor,  and  she  in  hers.  He  might 
busy  himself  with  his  own  affairs,  might  shoot  the 
small  game  that  he  so  much  despised,  and  ride  the 
wildest  horse  in  the  stables  and  break  his  neck.  She 
pictured  him  brought  in  thus,  and  how  she  would  tend 
him,  and  the  thought  fetched  a  smile  to  her  lips.  She 
looked  down  admiringly  at  her  taffeta  gown,  em- 
broidered with  tiny  rosebuds,  and  fingered  the  chain 
of  seed-pearls  she  had  woven  into  her  hair.  Such  a 
beautiful  costume  would  give  even  a  timid  woman 
courage,  she  considered,  and  she  thought  she  would 
like  to  see  him  dare  to  touch  her  now. 

In  the  late  afternoon  she  went  down  to  the  terrace, 
and  was  sunning  herself  there,  when  Romsey  appeared 
from  the  kennels.  She  did  not  waver,  but  turned  her 
eyes  indolently  toward  him,  drooping  the  lids  a  little. 
She  noted  that  he  bore  himself  well,  and  that  his 
glance  at  her  was  quick  and  straight. 

"You  rested  well,  cousin?"  he  asked.  "You  must 
have,  to  judge  by  your  looks." 

"I  always  sleep  well,"  she  answered  calmly. 

"And  didn't  need  your  guardian  in  the  house  to 
make  you  feel  more  secure?"  he  suggested. 

She  shook  her  head  as  if  she  had  no  interest  in  the 
notion.  "You  find  Cumnor  in  good  order?"  she  in- 
quired, in  turn. 

"Enough  so ;  if  you  mean  sleek  and  fat.    I  find  it 


THE  MASTERFUL  MAN  AT  HOME      67 

like  all  England,  a  great  country  fair,  stupid,  slow, 
the  cattle  overfed,  the  tenants  lazy." 

"And  you'll  stir  them  up?" 

"I'd  like  to  make  them  sweat." 

"How  glad  they'll  be  to  have  you  back,  my  lord." 

"Call  me  Richard,  cousin." 

The  lady  raised  her  fan  to  hide  a  yawn.  "What 
spirit  you  have,  to  be  sure,  sir !  We  should  all  enjoy 
watching  your  performance." 

Romsey  stood  looking  at  her  broodingly.  In  a 
crowd  one  would  have  noted  his  face  in  a  thousand. 
You  might  have  gone  through  the  Van  Dykes,  the 
Lelys  and  the  Knellers  in  the  great  gallery,  and 
found  a  little  of  him  here  and  a  little  there,  but 
nothing  that  approached  a  counterpart.  His  olive 
skin,  that  at  night  made  him  look  so  dark,  was  in- 
herited from  his  mother,  and  was  most  un-English. 
His  face  was  both  commanding  and  passionate,  as  if 
he  had  been  spoiled  by  his  own  will  in  youth,  and  had 
later  vainly  tried  to  curb  his  nature.  His  deep, 
searching  eyes,  and  determined  mouth  gave  evidence 
of  this,  and  might  have  caused  one  familiar  with  his 
history  to  remember  that  occasionally  the  tyrants  of 
Italian  cities  had  taken  to  the  hermit's  life  in  the 
desert  and  a  shirt  of  hair. 

The  girl  began  to  hum  a  little  tune.  She  was  evi- 
dently as  placid  as  the  golden  afternoon,  and  showing 
that  nothing  could  disturb  her  deep  content  in 
Cumnor. 


68      THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

Romsey  stepped  to  a  wooden  bench  that  stood  by  a 
path  near  the  terrace,  wrenched  it  from  its  foothold 
in  the  earth,  and  set  it  down  close  to  his  ward.  He 
took  his  seat  there.  "Do  you  know,"  said  he  abruptly, 
"that  we  two  are  the  only  ones  of  the  clan  in  Eng- 
land? That  should  draw  us  together." 

"It's  a  loose  bond,  my  lord." 

"Richard,"  he  corrected  her. 

"Since  you  seem  to  set  such  store  on  the  name — 
Richard,"  she  said,  as  if  flinging  him  a  farthing. 

"Egad,  you  do  seem  to  hate  me !  Yet  I  came  here 
on  purpose  to  be  a  guardian  and  master  to  you." 

Lady  Pamela  laughed,  not  unkindly,  but  with  great 
amusement.  "Girls  are  so  fond  of  masters.  In  town 
it's  said  that's  the  cause  they  marry."  She  looked  at 
him  critically.  "You  should  go  up  to  London,  Rich- 
ard ;  take  a  whip,  and  choose  a  slave  or  two.  There's 
many  women  would  like  it." 

"I  take  it,  Pamela,"  he  went  on,  unminding  her 
irony,  "that  you're  wiser  than  you  look.  In  Italy  it's 
the  other  way  about.  But  you  pretend  to  know  your 
London,  and  something  of  men  and  women.  How  did 
you  come  by  it?" 

"Oh,  I've  had  a  little  experience." 

"You've  been  to  town?" 

She  nodded  over  her  fan. 

"With  whom?" 

"I  went  on  a  visit  to  the  Bishop's  daughter." 

"You've  been  to  routs  and  drums?" 


THE  MASTERFUL  MAN  AT  HOME      69 

"A  few  of  them.     I  love  to  dance." 

"You've  known  men  in  love?  Besides  Charles 
Tree?" 

Again  she  nodded.  "So  they  said.  But  to  tell  you 
truly,  they  do  it  better  on  the  stage." 

"You've  been  to  the  play,  then?" 

"Why,  so  I  have.  To  Drury  Lane.  Oh,  how  I  love 
play-acting !" 

"So,  while  I  thought  of  you  as  a  country  mouse 
you  were  really  a  woman  of  fashion !  Half  the  people 
in  town  know  Lady  Pamela  Vauclain?" 

"Half  the  fashion  know  me.  I'm  told  I've  been 
toasted  once  or  twice  at  Brooks's."  She  turned,  and 
flashed  a  smile  upon  him.  "Do  you  blame  them  so 
monstrous  much,  Richard?" 

"Egad,  no!"  he  exclaimed,  the  faintest  twinkle  in 
his  eyes.  "For  an  English  woman — no,  I  don't  blame 
them  much." 

She  saw  her  advantage ;  but  she  checked  her  hand. 
"You're  not  so  very  gallant,  Richard,  are  you?"  she 
said,  turning  away.  "But  it's  scarcely  necessary 
between  cousins." 

The  Marquis  sat  back  on  his  bench,  frowning.  He 
was  beginning  to  understand  why  it  was  that  Eng- 
lishmen were  reputed  to  have  so  much  trouble  in 
managing  their  households. 

"You  speak  the  truth  in  that,"  he  declared ;  and  the 
girl  recognized  again  the  low  clearness  of  his  voice 
as  she  had  heard  it  the  night  before.  "We  are 


70      THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

cousins,  and  I  am  some  ten  years  your  elder.  There 
should  be  no  disputes  between  us." 

She  quite  forgot  her  calm  manner,  and  clapped  her 
hands  impatiently.  "Good  lack,  you  talk  as  if  I  were 
the  scullery-maid!" 

Romsey's  attention,  however,  was  at  that  moment 
diverted  down  the  driveway  to  the  avenue  of  beeches. 
"Who  comes  here?"  he  exclaimed.  "The  fat  Wife  of 
Bath,  clad  in  breeches,  and  astride  her  palf ry !" 

Lady  Pamela  looked.  There  was  a  horseman  in 
the  avenue  sure  enough,  and  he  sat  rather  heavily  in 
his  saddle,  and  appeared  fatter  than  was  becoming  in 
a  rider.  His  horse,  also,  was  certainly  no  Barbary 
steed, 

"It's  the  Earl  of  Dorset,"  she  explained,  "a  neigh- 
bor, and  a  very  pleasant  gentleman." 

"What,  not  the  stout  Wife  of  Bath?  An  Earl! 
Oh,  fat  and  sluggish  country !" 

"Not  so  loud,  if  you  please,"  she  begged ;  and  then 
added,  "He  looks  much  better  on  his  own  feet." 

The  noble  Earl,  quite  unconscious  of  their  com- 
ments, was  beaming  as  he  rode  up.  He  swept  off  his 
hat,  and  as  soon  as  he  reached  the  steps  that  led  to 
the  terrace,  swung  himself  down  to  the  ground.  His 
horse,  a  well-trained  beast,  stood  stock-still. 

Lady  Pamela  rose,  smiling  a  welcome  at  the  young 
man  as  he  approached  her.  "I  was  sure,"  she  said, 
"that  you  would  be  among  the  first  to  welcome  my 
cousin  when  he  came  home."  Standing  half-way  be- 


THE  MASTERFUL  MAN  AT  HOME     71 

tween  the  two,  she  waved  the  men  together  with  a 
flourish  of  her  fan.  "Cousin  Richard,  my  friend  the 
Earl  of  Dorset." 

The  stout  guest  blinked  his  owlish  eyes,  and  nodded 
cheerily.  "I  bid  you  welcome  home,  Lord  Romsey," 
said  he,  politely. 

The  Marquis  stood  with  h'is  arms  folded,  and  tipped 
his  head  a  trifle  as  if  his  neck  was  very  stiff. 

Lady  Pamela  went  to  the  hall  door  and  called  a 
servant.  When  the  footman  answered;  "A  chair  for 
this  gentleman,"  said  she,  "and  take  his  horse  to  the 
stable." 

The  little  Earl,  refreshed  by  a  sight  of  the  lady 
he  sought,  and  therefore  disposed  to  be  pleased  with 
everything,  sat  down  near  his  hostess.  Romsey,  his 
manner  utterly  indifferent,  lounged  on  his  bench. 
Lady  Pamela  opened  her  fan  again,  and  looked  en- 
gagingly at  the  shorter  man.  "The  last  time  we  met 
I  remember  you  spoke  of  turning  hermit  in  the 
country." 

"So  I  did  ;  I  remember,  so  I  did,"  he  agreed  eagerly. 

"Hermits  are  commonly  supposed  to  fast,"  put  in 
Romsey. 

The  Earl  blinked. 

"Why,  the  saints  are  all  rosy,  comely  men  in  the 
pictures,"  said  the  girl,  quickly. 

The  comedy  of  three  proceeded,  played  in  this 
manner :  Pamela,  like  a  skilful  angler,  would  dangle 
a  question  like  bait  before  the  Earl;  he,  eager  to 


72      THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

shine,  would  bite,  making  some  fond  and  fatuous  re- 
mark; Romsey  would  straightway  spear  him  merci- 
lessly, and  the  lady  would  have  to  disengage  the  barb 
as  tactfully  as  she  could.  Time  and  again  the  Earl 
flushed,  and  blinked  rapidly  at  some  attack  of  the 
man  from  Italy,  and  each  time  Pamela  caught  his 
eye  and  soothed  his  anger  with  a  sympathetic  smile. 
"We  must  ride  together  some  morning,"  she  said  to 
the  Earl.  "What,  on  two  mincing  palfreys  like  that 
piebald  one!"  Romsey  exclaimed.  The  Earl  glow- 
ered. "Why,  if  our  Cumnor  stables  can't  provide  me 
a  proper  beast,  Pd  be  glad  to  beg  the  loan  of  a  mare 
from  Lord  Dorset,"  the  girl  responded  promptly. 

"I  have  a  whole  stable  at  your  service,"  said  the 
Earl,  mollified  again. 

When,  however,  Pamela  and  the  Earl  fell  to  talking 
of  people  in  London  the  Marquis  drew  into  his  shell. 
The  girl  gradually  turned  her  shoulder  more  and 
more  positively  upon  him,  and  shut  him  out  of  their 
conversation.  Once,  glancing  sideways  in  his  direc- 
tion, she  said,  "This  must  weary  you,  cousin;  pray 
don't  stay  here  if  it  does.  Lord  Dorset  and  I  can 
entertain  each  other." 

"I'm  much  enlightened,"  he  answered  shortly;  but 
as  if  to  belie  his  words  he  crossed  his  long  legs  impa- 
tiently, and  scowled  at  the  distant  trees. 

Romsey  was  still  brooding  when  the  Earl  rose,  as 
if  intending  to  take  his  leave.  "Surely  you  will  stay 
to  sup  with  us?"  Pamela  said  invitingly.  The  Earl 


THE  MASTERFUL  MAN  AT  HOME      73 

looked  at  the  other  man.  "It  would  be  a  pleasure  to 
have  you,"  urged  the  girl.  "Indeed,"  began  the 
guest,  and  hesitated,  divided  between  desire  and  ap- 
prehension of  his  host.  Plainly  he  did  not  foresee  very 
enjoyable  entertainment  at  a  table  headed  by  the 
Marquis.  "If  Lord  Romsey — ' 

The  Marquis  appeared  to  be  quite  absorbed,  now 
gazing  at  the  sky. 

"He  wishes  you  to  stay,"  said  Pamela,  forced  to 
speak  for  him.  "Don't  you,  cousin?"  she  added, 
turning  on  him. 

"You  take  the  words  from  my  mouth,"  he  answered, 
leaving  his  meaning  vague. 

Pamela  snapped  her  little  ivory  fan  shut.  "Bid 
our  guest  stay,  my  lord,"  she  commanded.  "You 
know  you'll  be  glad  of  his  society."  She  rapped  the 
fan  impatiently  against  the  back  of  her  hand. 

Romsey  looked  up,  and  their  eyes  met.  For  the 
first  time  his  glance  was  defensive,  and  seemed  to 
take  account  of  the  will  in  hers.  As  if  he  were  caught 
at  some  disadvantage  seated,  he  stood  up  quickly. 
But  she  stuck  to  her  ground,  facing  him,  with  her 
hands  tightly  closed.  "You  will  bid  him  stay,"  she 
repeated. 

"I  bid  you  stay,"  he  said,  the  flicker  of  a  smile  in 
his  eyes. 

The  girl  actually  laughed  with  pleasure,  resting 
her  left  hand  on  the  back  of  her  chair.  "There's  such 
a  difference  between  your  Italian  and  our  English 


74      THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

ways,"  she  said  with  animation.  "Come  indoors,  Lord 
Dorset." 

The  Earl  accompanied  her  across  the  terrace,  not 
altogether  satisfied.  In  the  hall  Pamela  happened  to 
drop  her  fan,  and  he  picked  it  up.  "Why,  it's 
cracked,"  he  said,  examining  it,  "the  ivory's  split 
apart."  She  laughed  again  as  she  took  it  from  him. 
"So  it  is,  poor  thing.  I  must  have  snapped  it  in  my 
fingers."  She  did  not  want  to  tell  him  that  she  had 
broken  it  when  she  crossed  wills  with  Romsey. 

The  supper  party  of  three  was  a  lively  affair  that 
night.  To  begin  with,  Pamela  had  a  chance  to  make 
another  toilette,  and  she  appeared  ultimately  in  a 
white-and-silver  gown,  her  hair  dressed  in  a  manner 
she  had  contrived  in  Pump  Lane,  but  had  never  dared 
to  wear  there,  in  a  soft  wave,  low  across  her  forehead. 
A  small  black  star  set  off  the  cream  of  her  com- 
plexion, and  nothing  could  have  been  more  radiant 
than  her  eyes,  which  put  all  other  lights  in  the  dining- 
room  to  shame. 

The  Earl,  gradually  reassured  as  he  weathered 
Romsey's  temper,  and  thinking  that  the  latter  had  now 
been  set  in  his  proper  place,  was  ravished  by  his  first 
sight  of  the  charming  lady  and  felt  certain  that  the 
world  held  no  beauty  comparable  to  hers.  With  his 
first  glass  of  the  famous  Cumnor  Burgundy  he  re- 
solved to  besiege  her  as  persistently  as  the  Greeks 
beset  the  walls  of  Troy,  with  his  second  glass  he  was 
chuckling  to  think  how  the  Pump  Lane  lassie  was 


THE  MASTERFUL  MAN  AT  HOME      75 

hoodwinking  this  uncouth  Marquis,  and  at  the  third 
he  began  to  laugh  at  the  march  he  had  stolen  on  Lord 
Verney  and  Sir  John  Gorham.  Meanwhile  Pamela 
fed  him  attention  and  compliments  as  a  mistress  might 
offer  choice  morsels  to  a  pet  dog. 

The  Marquis  sat  in  his  high-backed  chair,  and  kept 
Gregory  busy  filling  his  glass  of  wine.  His  eyes  were 
almost  constantly  upon  his  ward  across  the  table, 
and  gradually  some  of  her  sparkle  seemed  to  steal  into 
his  somberness.  When  the  supper  was  half  over  he 
began  to  talk,  and  although  Pamela  had  intended  to 
control  the  situation,  she  found  herself  obliged  to 
drop  the  reins  into  his  hands.  His  fingers  twisted  the 
long  stem  of  his  wine-glass,  as  he  told  them  tales  of 
Italy.  Wild,  improbable  tales  they  were,  but  they 
became  truthful  by  his  manner  of  telling  them ;  stories 
of  lurid  passion  in  lonely  castles,  of  women's  perfidy 
and  men's  revenge,  of  horrors  done  in  dungeons,  and 
of  villainies  that  stalked  the  hills  and  plains.  He 
himself  had  fought  condottierl  chiefs,  he  had  ridden 
through  Pescara  when  the  bells  were  mute,  and  fear 
of  the  black-pox  written  on  every  face ;  he  had  sat 
across  the  table  from  Urbino's  Duke  when  the  latter 
dropped  poison  from  his  ring  into  the  wine-glass  of 
his  Cardinal  guest.  "He  twisted  his  glass  so — as 
I  do  now,"  said  Romsey,  "and  his  eyes  traveled  around 
the  table  until  they  came  to  the  Cardinal's  face,  and 
then  he  raised  his  own  glass,  and  smffed  over  it  as  the 
Cardinal  drank." 


76      THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

The  little  Earl,  less  rosy  than  usual,  choked  over 
a  sip  of  the  Burgundy,  and  tried  vainly  to  smile. 
Pamela  never  moved;  her  eyes  were  intent  on  Rom- 
sey's face 

"Quick  poison  it  was,"  said  Romsey,  as  if  enjoying 
the  thought.  "Urbino  knew  his  trade.  But  he  for- 
got, and  forgave  his  wife  afterwards.  Half  a  year 
later  he  repented  of  it." 

"You  mean — "  murmured  Pamela. 

"I  mean  the  man  who  forgives  is  a  fool.  Urbino 
died  because  of  his  charity." 

"What  horrors!"  exclaimed  Pamela.  "Are  such 
things  really  true?" 

Romsey's  lips  broke  into  a  smile.  "I  have  no  skill 
at  inventing  stories.  What  I  say  is  so." 

His  tales  lost  nothing  by  his  manner  of  telling 
them,  which  was  full  of  dramatic  pauses  and  half- 
veiled  innuendos.  Perhaps  his  audience's  attention 
urged  him  on.  The  Earl,  his  face  now  looking  al- 
most pale  in  the  candleshine,  sunk  back  in  his  chair, 
had  the  air  of  being  ready  to  start  to  his  feet  should 
anyone  speak  suddenly  behind  him.  Pamela's  eyes 
bore  witness  to  a  wide  range  of  emotions,  amaze- 
ment, incredulity,  appreciation  of  Romsey's  dramatic 
power,  and  an  intense  interest  in  all  that  he  had  to 
say. 

Romsey  stopped  abruptly,  seeming  to  imply  that 
although  he  hadfcot  by  any  means  come  to  the  end 
of  his  histories,  he  had  told  enough  for  them  to  hear. 


THE  MASTERFUL  MAN  AT  HOME      77 

Pamela  rose  quickly  to  break  the  spell  he  had  cast 
upon  them.  "We  need  a  little  cooler  air,"  she  said; 
and  led  the  way  through  the  hall  to  the  terrace. 

The  night  was  deep  with  stars.  A  breeze  from  the 
west  soothed  their  warm  faces.  The  Earl,  impressed 
by  Romsey's  stories,  and  feeling  unnaturally  subdued, 
realizing  also  that  he  would  have  little  chance  to 
besiege  the  lady  that  evening,  said  good-night,  and 
calling  for  his  horse,  rode  away. 

When  he  had  gone  the  girl  from  Pump  Lane  raised 
her  arms,  and  drew  in  a  deep  breath.  She  was  think- 
ing of  Gilbert  Stanes,  and  of  the  great  distance  that 
lay  between  his  little  sitting-room  and  this  vast  park 
of  Cumnor. 

When  she  turned  she  found  Romsey  standing  near 
her.  He  was  staring  at  a  star  that  hung  just  above 
the  tallest  beech,  and  a  certain  moodiness  in  his  face 
caught  her  attention. 

"You  haven't  known  many  happy  people,  have 
you?"  she  said,  on  impulse. 

"Happy  people?"  he  echoed  questioningly ;  and 
looked  at  her.  "Who  are  happy?" 

"I  never  thought  much  about  it  before,"  she  an- 
swered, "but  I  suppose  those  who  care  for  other 
people.  Those  men  and  women  you  knew  in  Italy 
were  always  nursing  their  own  passions,  and  the 
Church  people  their  own  souls." 

"And  what  else  could  they 

"Care  about  other  people." 


78      THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

He  was  still  gazing  at  her.  "Are  there  such  people 
anywhere?"  he  asked. 

Again  she  spoke  on  impulse.  "I  know  one  or  two. 
Oh,  far  from  here,  very  far  from  us." 

He  stared  a  moment.  "Yes,  I  believe  there  are 
such  people,"  he  said.  "I've  seen  them  in  the  crowded 
streets  of  towns.  But  they're  not  of  our  race, 
Pamela." 

She  looked  again  at  the  star-strewn  sky,  and  pres- 
ently she  sighed.  "It's  hard  to  be  like  them,"  she 
murmured.  "It's  so  much  easier  to  want  things  for 
oneself." 

"And  take  what  you  want,"  he  said  brusquely. 
"Seize  it  before  it  slips  away." 

The  words  slid  by  her,  as  she  communed  with  her 
thoughts.  After  a  while  she  turned.  "Good-night. 
I  hope  no  ghosts  will  spoil  your  sleep." 

He  looked  cold  and  distant.  "I'm  used  to  dealing 
with  ghosts,"  he  returned  shortly. 

In  the  shelter  of  her  own  room  Pamela  sank  on  the 
seat  beneath  the  windows.  She  was  homesick  for  her 
own  people,  for  those  who  loved  each  other,  and  found 
contentment  in  that,  having  no  knowledge  of  the 
evil  passions  that  had  loomed  so  large  in  the  stories 
Romsey  had  told  them  at  the  supper-table. 


ra 

THE  LADY  HEARS  COMMANDS 

I  ORD  ROMSEY'S  blackness  was  occasionally 
*—*  streaked  with  a  shade  or  two  of  gray — as  when 
he  had  stood  under  the  stars  and  listened  to  Pamela's 
comments — but  for  the  most  part  it  was  of  a  consis- 
tent color.  He  was  as  imperious  as  any  Roman  Em- 
peror. Gilbert  Stanes  had  once  told  his  young  aunt 
the  story  of  King  Canute's  forbidding  the  waves  to 
advance,  and  she  had  dared  to  doubt  it.  But  as  she 
grew  more  familiar  with  the  Marquis  of  Romsey  she 
relinquished  her  doubt  in  that  story.  There  were 
such  men  to  be  found.  Romsey  was  such  a  man ;  she 
had  no  doubt  but  that  from  his  rock  of  Cumnor  he 
would  have  the  audacity — if  the  notion  had  pleased 
him — to  forbid  the  fields  of  grain  to  ripen,  or  the 
orchards  to  bear  fruit. 

The  girl  concluded  that  the  man  lived  in  a  cloak, 
with  the  collar  usually  standing.  He  was  generally 
aloof  and  remote,  rarely  condescending  to  meet  other 
people  on  their  own  grounds,  or  even  on  a  neutral 
field,  but  surveying  them  from  the  Heights  of  his 

superiority.    If  he  ever  realized  that  others  differed 

79 


80      THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

from  his  views,  he  would  not  admit  the  justice  of  their 
divergence.  It  seemed  as  if  he  had  modeled  himself 
on  the  pattern  of  a  tyrant,  having  apparently  studied 
all  types  of  men,  and  decided  that  the  part  of  tyrant 
suited  him  best. 

Occasionally  he  flung  the  folds  of  his  cloak  behind 
him  and  stood  forth.  Then  there  was  intense  purpose 
in  his  eyes  and  face.  At  such  times  the  girl  from 
Pump  Lane  realized  that  he  was  startlingly  human, 
but  in  a  manner  she  did  not  understand.  These 
glimpses,  however,  convinced  her  that  under  the  sur- 
face he  was  indeed  like  those  avid,  passionate  crea- 
tures he  had  lived  among  in  Italy,  who  tore  at  their 
joy,  howled  at  the  wind,  seized  at  delight  as  it  fled 
before  them,  fearful  lest  it  should  leave  them  with 
empty  hands.  The  thought  of  such  people  disturbed 
her,  in  spite  of  her  homely  breeding  and  native  sense, 
and  she  tried  to  put  it  from  her  mind.  But  her  con- 
victions were  right,  for  Romsey  had  lived  entirely  for 
pleasure,  like  the  men  and  women  he  had  been  thrown 
among. 

The  girl  contrived  to  see  him  only  infrequently, 
and  busied  herself  in  the  gardens,  in  walks  through 
the  park,  and  in  learning  what  she  could  concerning 
the  ordering  of  the  household  from  the  housekeeper. 
Many  a  time  she  asked  Rachel  to  stay  in  her  sitting- 
room,  and  chatted  with  her  of  small  matters.  She 
made  friends  with  the  lodge-keeper's  children,  and 
played  with  them  for  long  hours  in  the  sun.  Through 


THE  LADY  HEARS  COMMANDS         81 

them  she  learned  something  of  the  tenants,  and  went 
to  see  those  who  were  ill.  But  as  each  day  passed 
she  found  the  role  of  a  great  lady  grow  more  lonely, 
and  longed  more  for  the  bustle  of  life  in  Cheapside. 

Romsey,  however,  soon  began  to  insist  on  seeing 
something  of  her.  When  she  had  taken  her  meals  in 
her  rooms  for  three  days  he  sent  word  by  Gregory 
that  he  wished  her  presence  in  the  dining-hall,  and 
though  she  rebelled  at  the  message  she  decided  it 
would  be  wisest  not  to  refuse  him.  Sometimes  he  met 
her  on  her  walks,  sometimes  in  the  gardens,  and  she 
had  the  feeling  that  he  was  going  out  of  his  way  to 
find  her.  Usually  when  they  met  he  treated  her  in  the 
same  manner,  was  arrogant  and  imperious,  sarcastic, 
sharp-tongued,  as  if  he  were  testing  her,  and  only 
very  infrequently  agreed  with  her.  What  she  liked 
he  usually  seemed  to  despise.  He  called  the  Earl  of 
Dorset  "that  pink-faced  fool,"  and  asked  if  all  the 
gentlemen  in  London  had  mushrooms  for  brains. 
When  she  made  some  defense  of  her  friend,  he  smiled. 
"Come,  Pamela,  admit  that  the  men  are  a  sorry  lot 
in  England,"  he  said.  "You  cannot  grow  good  fruit 
from  a  worn-out  tree." 

She  tossed  her  head  indignantly.  "There  are  Eng- 
lishmen who  would  challenge  you  for  that." 

His  smile  broadened.  "Not  the  men ;  the  English 
women  might,  Pam.  The  men  would  prefer  to  talk." 

They  were  in  the  garden  at  the  time;  and  just  at 
that  point  Sir  John  Gorham  rode  up,  and  reined  in 


82      THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

on  the  other  side  of  the  wall  that  sheltered  the  holly- 
hocks and  larkspurs.  Pamela  gave  a  sigh  of  relief, 
for  Sir  John  seemed  to  bring  a  breath  of  London  to 
her. 

"Why,  it's  Lord  Fantastico  himself!"  exclaimed 
Romsey,  seeing  the  newcomer. 

Pamela,  her  pretty  face  all  smiles,  stood  on  tiptoe, 
and  waved  a  hand  to  Sir  John.  He  rose  in  his  stir- 
rups, for  the  wall  was  high.  "Good-morning,  my 
lady,"  said  he,  gaily,  "and  the  same  to  you,  Lord 
Romsey,  for  I'm  sure  you  must  be  he." 

Stooping,  Pamela  broke  a  red  rose,  and  flung  it 
over  the  wall,  and  Sir  John,  at  the  peril  of  his  neck, 
reached,  and  caught  it. 

"Child's  play,"  muttered  Romsey. 

"Let  the  children  play,  then!"  she  threw  at  him 
over  her  shoulder. 

As  eagerly  as  a  school-girl  on  a  holiday,  she  ran 
around  the  garden  wall,  and  holding  out  her  hands 
to  Sir  John,  "Jack,  will  you  take  me  riding?"  she 
begged. 

"Will  I  ?"  he  cried  delightedly,  and  added  in  a  lower 
voice,  "How  goes  it,  Lady  Pam?" 

She  shook  her  head,  murmuring,  "Monstrous  bad !" 

Sir  John  slid  from  his  saddle.  "Leave  him  to  me," 
he  whispered,  "I'll  handle  him  properly.  And  first 
let  me  stable  my  nag." 

Pamela  and  Sir  John,  leading  his  horse,  walked  to 
the  stables,  deserting  Romsey  in  the  garden. 


THE  LADY  HEARS  COMMANDS         83 

"Oh,  Jack,"  cried  Pamela,  "it's  such  a  lovely  place, 
with  such  perfect  flowers,  and  such 'a  quantity  of 
sweet  gowns  and  trinkets  in  my  rooms ;  and  yet  I  am 
miserable !" 

"I'll  right  that !"  said  the  confident  gallant.  "I'll 
show  the  monster  his  place." 

"Oh,  I'm  so  glad  you  came !"  she  exclaimed. 

"Then  you  do  like  me  a  little?" 

"I  like  you  oceans-full,"  she  said,  beaming. 

Sir  John  gave  his  horse  to  a  groom,  and  they 
walked  back  to  the  house.  On  the  way  he  stopped,  as 
if  remembering  something.  "See ;  here's  my  gift,"  he 
said,  and  took  from  an  inside  pocket  a  satin  case,  and 
put  it  in  Pamela's  hands. 

With  sparkling  eyes  she  opened  the  little  box,  and 
found  a  necklet  of  pearls.  "Oh,  you  dear  Jack!" 
she  cried ;  "what  a  beauty !  But  they're  far  too  fine 
for  me !" 

"Nothing's  too  fine  that  will  soften  the  heart  of 
beauty.  I  hope  they'll  plead  for  me." 

"Indeed,  and  they  are  eloquent,"  she  said,  dangling 
the  chain  on  her  hand. 

Sir  John  was  not  like  the  Earl  of  Dorset,  and  so, 
when  he  returned  to  the  lawn,  and  found  Romsey 
standing  there,  like  a  stranded  ship  on  the  rocks,  he 
valiantly  prepared  to  disarm  him.  "Egad,  sir,  and 
I'm  glad  to  set  eyes  on  you!"  he  said,  heartily. 
"They've  talked  so  much  of  you  in  London  that  you're 
grown  into  the  eighth  wonder  of  the  world." 


84      THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

Romsey  frowned.  "You  have  the  advantage  of 
me.  I've  not  heard  talk  of  you." 

"No,  I'm  a  modest  person.  John  Gorham  is  my 
name,  and  I  have  the  honor  of  being  an  old  friend  of 
Lady  Pam."  He  struck  his  boot  with  his  riding- 
crop.  "My  word,  you  almost  made  me  forget  my 
bit  of  scandal;  one  of  the  choicest,  too!  The 
Countess  of  Kew  has  run  away  with  Hawkins,  the 
prize-fighter !" 

"What  did  I  say?"  growled  Romsey,  looking  at 
Pamela.  "The  gentlemen  of  England  are  all  sheep." 

"Did  you  say  that?"  cried  Sir  John,  apparently 
very  much  delighted.  "I  quite  agree  with  you,  my 
lord.  They  are  all  sheep,  or  goats.  Now,  Hawkins 
is  a  fine  red-blooded  rascal !  I  saw  him  whip  the  Manx 
Giant.  There  was  a  battle!  One  eye  closed,  nose 
broken,  hammered  to  a  jelly — " 

"Oh,  stop,  Jack,  stop !"  cried  the  girl. 

"How  you  would  have  enjoyed  it,  Romsey!"  said 
Sir  John,  stepping  nearer  to  him,  and  smiling 
broadly.  "I  see  we're  much  alike.  Blood  and  brawn ! 
No  small-sword  work,  no  wrestling  on  the  green  ;  beef 
and  muscle  and  bone  till  one  or  the  other  cracks!" 
And  he  struck  the  Marquis  a  clap  on  the  shoulder. 

"How,  sir!"  exclaimed  Romsey,  as  if  he  did  not 
relish  the  other's  words  or  actions. 

"Call  me  Jack.  I  bow  to  the  Countess  of  Kew  and 
her  battling  Hawkins.  It's  not  a  scandal,  it's  an  epic 
poem!  Will  dinner  soon  be  ready,  Pam?  I  have  an 


THE  LADY  HEARS  COMMANDS         85 

appetite  like  that  rogue  they  act  at  Drury  Lane; 
what's  his  name?  Brave  Jack  Falstaff !" 

Sir  John  fairly  swept  the  other  two  along  with 
his  tempest  of  good  humor,  and  landed  them  all  in 
their  seats  at  the  dinner-table. 

All  through  dinner  he  held  the  upper  hand.  When 
Romsey  told  of  some  adventure  in  Italy  Sir  John  had 
a  wilder  tale  of  distant  Scotland,  Cornwall,  or  Wales. 
When  Romsey  scoffed  at  anything  English  Sir  John 
scoffed  twice  as  volubly  and  many  times  more  loudly. 
To  Pamela,  who  knew  Sir  John  as  a  man  famed  for 
his  suavity  and  even-temper,  the  spectacle  was  de- 
licious. To  her  delight  she  saw  Romsey  congeal, 
beaten  at  his  own  tricks,  and  finally  sit  distant  and 
silent,  disdain  on  his  lips  and  in  his  eyes. 

Where  the  simple  Earl  of  Dorset  had  been  crushed 
at  table  Sir  John  rose  supreme.  The  hock  from 
Cumnor's  cellars  was  no  more  translucent  than  his 
wit.  He  told  gossip  of  London  with  all  the  skill  of 
"The  Tatler."  He  even  spoke  of  Charles  Tree,  who, 
he  said,  was  reported  to  be  in  Paris,  gaming  away  his 
patrimony  to  solace  him  for  a  recent  loss  in  love. 
With  an  innocent  face  he  asked  Romsey  if  he  had 
heard  of  the  actress,  Sally  Temple,  and  without  wait- 
ing for  his  answer,  extolled  her  as  the  prettiest 
woman  in  town.  "And  it's  a  fact,"  he  added,  "that 
she  is  as  good  as  she  is  beautiful.  Wouldn't  you 
like  to  see  her,  my  lord  ?" 

Here    Pamela    interrupted.      "It    isn't    seemly    I 


86      THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

should  hear  you  discuss  such  matters,"  said  she. 
"Why  should  my  cousin  care  about  Sally  Temple?" 

"I'll  warrant  she's  no  worse  than  many  a  lady," 
said  Romsey,  coldly.  "I've  found  that  there's  more 
virtue  at  present  among  the  people  than  among  the 
peerage." 

Sir  John  burst  out  laughing.  Lady  Pamela,  some- 
what flushed,  looked  at  Romsey  inquiringly. 

"But  even  a  peasant  wife  I'd  keep  under  lock  and 
key,"  added  the  latter,  dourly. 

"Oh,  my  lord,  how  you  will  spoil  everything !"  cried 
Pamela,  disconcerted. 

Again  Sir  John  laughed.  The  girl  shot  an  angry 
glance  at  him ;  but  immediately,  as  if  she  found  it 
hard  to  stay  angry,  she  laughed  too.  "I'll  go  and 
dress,"  said  she.  "Then,  Sir  John,  you  shall  take  me 
riding,  and  for  punishment  I'll  make  you  tell  me  all 
you  know  about  this  Sally  Temple." 

The  new  lady  of  Cumnor  dressed  in  a  very  be- 
coming habit  she  found  in  one  of  her  wardrobes,  and 
fairly  danced  to  the  stables.  Sir  John,  with  the  aid 
of  the  head-groom,  had  picked  out  a  mare  that  she 
could  safely  ride.  She  had  no  fear,  and  under  her 
companion's  watchful  eye,  cantered  by  his  side  down 
the  avenue  of  beeches  into  the  highroad.  Her  eyes 
shone,  and  she  declared  that  she  loved  the  motion, 
and  added  that  she  was  really  happy  for  the  first  time 
since  she  had  left  Pump  Lane.  "The  country  has 
some  advantages,  Jack,"  she  said,  "when  the  dragon's 


THE  LADY  HEARS  COMMANDS         87 

not  about.  You  handled  him  very  well.  I  could 
scarcely  keep  from  laughing  at  you." 

"I  cracked  the  whip  louder  than  he  did,"  agreed 
Sir  John,  pleased  at  his  own  shrewdness.  He  looked 
at  the  charming  face  and  figure  so  near  him,  and  his 
eyes  shone.  "Won't  you  marry  me,  Sally,  dear  ?"  he 
begged.  "Then  you  needn't  fear  any  dragons,  here 
or  at  Drury  Lane.  Your  path  shall  be  strewn  with 
roses,  and  I,  the  happiest  man  in  all  the  world,  will 
be  always  at  your  feet.  Say  yes,  Sally." 

She  stroked  her  mare's  glossy  neck.  "It's  too  fine 
a  day  to  talk  of  such  serious  matters,"  she  protested. 

"The  day  will  be  finer  yet  if  you  say  yes." 

"I'm  almost  afraid  of  a  lover  who  talks  so  well." 

"My  heart  is  stammering,  if  my  words  don't,"  he 
said. 

"You  must  give  me  more  time,  Jack,"  she  an- 
swered. "And — I'm  not  so  good  a  horsewoman  that 
I  can  think  of  two  things  at  once." 

She  put  her  mare  ahead  of  him,  and  kept  in  front, 
graceful  as  a  swallow. 

When  they  slowed  down  to  a  walk,  the  girl  chat- 
tered about  the  trees  and  the  open  meadows,  but  Sir 
John  would  bring  the  talk  back  to  his  love  for  her. 
He  used  his  shrewdest  arguments,  he  flattered  and 
cajoled,  he  pointed  out  how  happy  Charles  Tree  and 
his  bride  had  been. 

"But  they've  not  been  married  a  week  yet,  Jack," 
she  said.  "They're  still  on  their  honeymoon." 


88      THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

"Ours  would  last  forever,"  he  declared  with  pas- 
sion. 

She  gave  him  a  sidelong  glance.  "And  yet  you 
claim  to  know  the  world,"  she  said.  "Didn't  the 
Countess  of  Kew  run  away  with  Hawkins,  the  prize- 
fighter?" 

"Her  husband  was  a  dullard." 

"Perhaps — but  she  didn't  know  her  own  heart 
when  she  married  him.  The  other  man  stole  it  from 
her.  That's  the  way  with  us  women.  We  have  to 
follow  our  hearts." 

"And  can't  I  find  yours?" 

"It's  here,"  she  said,  motioning  toward  her  breast. 

"And  it's  free  to  all?"  he  asked. 

"Free  to  all,"  she  echoed;  and  again  rode  away 
from  him. 

He  shook  off  his  seriousness  for  the  time,  and  was 
his  usual  amusing  self.  The  girl  was  very  happy, 
and  not  even  the  water  at  the  ford  in  the  river  where 
they  let  their  horses  drink,  laughed  so  lightly  as 
she.  But  when  the  sun  began  to  sink,  she  turned. 
"I  must  be  riding  back  to  Cumnor  now,"  she  said. 

"There'll  be  a  moon  in  a  little  time,"  he  urged. 

She  shook  her  head.  "If  I  were  only  Sally  I  might 
ride  by  moonshine,  but  the  Lady  Pamela  must  be 
discreet.  Besides,  there's  no  telling  how  stiff  I'll  be 
by  morning." 

So  they  rode  back,  Sir  John  revolving  schemes  by 
which  he  might  win  so  much  beauty,  the  girl  as  care- 


THE  LADY  HEARS  COMMANDS         89 

free  as  the  wind.  The  sight  of  Cumnor,  however, 
reminded  her  of  its  owner;  and  she  frowned. 

Sir  John  noticed  it.  "Say  yes  to  me,  Sally,  and 
we  needn't  go  back." 

"No;  I  must  play  the  piece  through,"  she  de- 
clared. "That's  an  actress's  lot." 

They  rode  to  the  terrace,  and  Sir  John  lifted  her 
from  her  saddle,  and  saw  a  groom  take  her  horse. 
Then  he  rode  away  thoughtfully ;  and  she  went  in  at 
the  great  door  of  the  hall. 

But  she  had  plenty  of  nerve,  and  she  hummed  a 
tune  to  herself  as  she  went  through  the  halls  and  up 
the  stairs  to  her  rooms.  She  knew  that  the  Marquis 
expected  her  to  sup  with  him,  and  she  had  Rachel 
dress  her  with  great  care.  She  bound  her  hair  with 
a  silken  fillet,  and  fastened  Sir  John's  string  of 
pearls  about  her  throat. 

The  dining-hall  was  lit  with  candles,  which  routed 
the  twilight  that  tried  to  force  an  entrance  through 
the  mullioned  windows.  Romsey  was  there  before 
her,  standing  in  front  of  the  chimney-piece.  He  bent 
his  head  in  welcome  to  her,  and  she  noticed  that  in- 
stead of  his  dark  clothes  his  coat  to-night  was  claret- 
colored,  picked  out  with  gold  thread. 

Their  eyes  met  now  and  then  across  the  table,  but 
her  smiles  and  words  met  such  slight  response  that 
she  resigned  herself  to  silence.  Gradually  something 
of  the  old  feeling  of  suspense  that  she  had  felt  at 
their  first  meeting  settled  on  her. 


90      THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

Presently  Romsey  pushed  his  plate  away,  touched 
his  napkin  to  his  lips,  and  looked  directly  at  her. 
"While  you  were  riding  a  man  came  here  to  see  you," 
he  said,  "tricked  out  in  all  the  colors  of  the  rainbow. 
I  was  in  the  hall,  and  he  told  me  his  name,  and  asked 
to  see  you.  He  said  he  was  Lord  Verney,  and  had 
come  to  stay  a  fortnight  in  the  country.  Then  he 
fell  to  prating  of  people  in  London  like  a  court 
chamberlain." 

"He's  an  old  friend  of  mine,"  Pamela  explained. 

"So  he  said,"  agreed  Romsey.  "I  disposed  of  him 
as  quickly  as  I  could,  for  I  have  no  stomach  for  these 
peacock  men." 

Stung  by  his  words  and  manner,  Pamela  rose  from 
the  table,  and  went  into  the  great  hall.  She  sat  down 
by  a  front  window.  Thither,  after  a  few  moments, 
Romsey  followed  her.  She  knew  he  was  standing 
near  her,  but  she  did  not  turn  her  eyes  from  the 
view  through  the  window. 

"So,  cousin,"  he  began  abruptly,  "we  have  three 
fine  English  gallants  courting  you.  The  red-cheeked 
Wife  of  Bath,  Sir  Fantastico  Gorham,  and  this 
strutting  Lord  High  Chamberlain.  Each  of  them, 
I  take  it,  is  eager  to  wed  my  ward  and  cousin.  Verily 
you  have  the  knack  of  catching  men." 

She  seemed  to  be  paying  no  attention  to  him,  far 
more  interested  in  the  park  than  in  his  words. 

"And  which  of  the  three  do  you  favor,  the  Wife, 


THE  LADY  HEARS  COMMANDS        91 

the  Fop,  or  the  Chamberlain?  Flesh,  or  fashion,  or 
folly?" 

"You're  unjust  to  them,"  she  protested  suddenly. 

"So?  Perhaps  your  mind  isn't  made  up  yet.  But 
to  which  of  the  three  do  you  most  incline?" 

She  turned  directly  toward  him.  "How  should  I 
know?  No  one  has  won  me  yet." 

His  black  eyes  gleamed.  "Then  I  was  right,  and 
Englishmen  are  fools!"  he  exclaimed.  "They  shan't 
have  another  chance.  I'll  decide  for  you!  I  want 
to  marry  you  myself,  Pamela.  You're  the  one  woman 
I  could  want  for  wife." 

She  shrank  away  a  little,  and  caught  her  hands  in 
her  lap.  "Oh  no,  my  lord,  oh  no ;  that  couldn't  be !" 

He  stepped  so  close  that  he  stood  just  above  her, 
towering  as  he  had  on  that  first  night.  His  voice  was 
low  and  clear.  "But  it  shall  be,  Pamela ;  it  shall  be ! 
Don't  be  afraid  of  me.  None  of  these  others  could 
love  you  as  I  do." 

"No,  no!"  she  repeated,  shaking  her  head.  "I 
couldn't  marry  you." 

The  Marquis  of  Romsey  was  not  used  to  being 
baffled,  and  he  had  evidently  set  his  heart  on  having 
her  for  his  wife.  His  quick  decision  did  not  surprise 
himself,  for  he  frequently  took  swift  and  permanent 
impressions;  but  he  concluded  that  perhaps  he  had 
startled  the  girl  before  him. 

"It  may  be  I'm  too  sudden,  Pamela ;  but  look  how 


92      THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

it  is  with  me.  The  women  I've  known  before  have 
been  toys  of  the  moment,  such  as  hold  a  man  by  the 
lure  of  a  dimple  or  some  trick  of  the  eyes ;  they  come 
and  go  when  we  want  to  be  amused,  like  music  or  the 
gaming-table.  But  you  are  a  woman  no  man — once 
seeing — could  ever  forget,  as  far  above  these  others 
as  the  stars  above  mere  candles.  This  is  the  truth 
I  speak." 

His  words  ran  straight,  but  were  spoken  with 
passionate  eagerness  that  shook  her.  She  tightened 
the  grip  of  her  fingers,  and  bent  her  head,  so  that  he 
might  not  force  her  to  look  at  him.  "No,  my  lord — 
no,  no — it  can't  be — for — I  don't  love  you — not  in 
the  least,"  she  murmured  hurriedly. 

"Not  now,  perhaps,"  he  said ;  "I  could  hardly 
think  that.  But  wed  me,  and  the  rest  will  come.  It 
should  be  that  way,  Pamela.  Give  yourself  to  me, 
and  your  love  will  follow  mine." 

Her  manner  and  voice  grew  beseeching.  '''Be 
gentle  with  me,"  she  begged.  "I'm  only  a  girl ;  and 
taken  quite  unawares.  I  scarcely  know  you;  and 
all  I  can  tell  now  is  that  I've  no  such  feeling  for 
you." 

"You  want  more  time  ?"  he  demanded. 

"Yes;"  she  hesitated;  "but  I  think— I'm  quite 
sure  it  would  make  no  difference.  We  go  separate 
ways." 

Romsey  was  a  very  proud  man,  and  had  all  the 
ignorance  of  pride.  He  saw  a  pliant  girl,  and  he 


THE  LADY  HEARS  COMMANDS        93 

felt  that  she  was  pitting  her  will  against  his.  After 
all,  he  was  the  head  of  their  house,  and  she  was  his 
ward  and  cousin.  "You  shall  marry  me,"  he  declared 
positively,  "and  that  will  put  an  end  to  our  argu- 
ment. A  man  must  rule  his  own  house,  and  a  woman 
must  sink  her  wishes  to  his.  I  will  have  you  for  wife, 
Pamela,  as  surely  as  I  stand  here.  Grow  used  to  that 
thought  as  quick  as  possible." 

"It's  only  a  waste  of  time,  thinking  of  it,"  she 
answered. 

"Then  waste  the  time!"  he  ordered.  "And  if  any 
of  those  three  who  flutter  round  you — or  any  others 
— come  here  again,  I  shall  send  them  packing,  pitch 
them  out  as  I  would  a  thieving  knave." 

She  dared  to  look  at  his  bitter,  arrogant  face,  and 
suddenly  a  fighting  spirit  equal  to  his  rose  in  her. 
"I've  never  seen  so  mad  a  man,"  she  said,  "nor  one 
so  cold  and  hard.  You  ask  for  love  with  a  club  in 
your  hand.  That's  how  men  win  hate ;  and  that's  all 
I  have  to  give  you,  hate  and  scorn  and  contempt." 

"You  say  that,  do  you?"  he  answered,  his  anger 
rising  in  a  cloud  in  his  face.  "Then  I'll  be  a  tyrant 
in  my  house.  Go  to  your  rooms  and  stay  there,  till 
you  come  to  a  different  mind.  I  have  mastered  men 
before  this;  don't  think  that  I  can't  rule  a  simple 
woman." 

The  girl's  heart  beat  in  her  ears,  and  devils  seemed 
loosened  within  her.  Her  nails  dug  into  the  flesh  of 
her  palms.  But  she  contrived  to  laugh  a  little 


94      THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

rippling  note  that  was  maddening  in  its  scorn. 
"Tyrant?"  she  cried.  "You  seem  more  like  a  play- 
actor to  me!" 

He  did  not  deign  to  answer,  but  stood  aside,  look- 
ing toward  the  door  to  the  west  wing. 

She  would  have  liked  to  pull  the  roof  of  Cumnor 
down  upon  him;  but  instead  she  had  to  rise,  cross 
the  hall,  and  go  through  the  door  he  indicated.  But 
the  scorn  she  had  put  into  that  word  "play-actor" 
hung  in  the  air,  and  she  felt  that  it  would  echo  in  his 
ears  for  some  time  as  her  answer  to  his  attempt  at 
tyranny. 


VI 

LORD  VERNEY  SHOWS  HIS  METTLE. 

RACHEL  was  used  to  her  lady  lying  late  in  bed, 
but  when  the  clock  stood  at  ten  she  made  bold  to 
tiptoe  into  the  room.  A  glance  sufficed  to  show  her 
that  her  mistress  was  staring  at  the  canopy.  Rachel, 
with  a  deprecatory  cough,  made  her  presence  known ; 
and  the  lady  turned  her  head  ever  so  little.  "Well?" 
she  demanded  querulously. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  my  lady,"  said  Rachel,  "but 
I  feared  you  might  be  ill." 

"So  I  am." 

Rachel's  face  showed  the  greatest  concern  as  she 
hurried  to  the  bed.  "Where  is  the  pain,  my  lady? 
We  have  physick  and  simples  of  all  kinds.  Perhaps 
a  powder  — " 

The  lady  rested  her  head  on  her  arm,  and  turned 
her  face  fully  toward  the  maid.  Her  hair  made  a 
wonderful  cushion  on  the  pillow.  "No  physick 
would  ease  me,  Rachel.  I'm  ill  of  spirit — not  of 
body.  I'm  in  doubt  what  to  do.  Have  you  ever 
hated  any  one,  Rachel?  Hated  them  enough  to  cry 
for  it?" 


96      THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

Rachel  considered.  "No,  I  think  not,  my  lady," 
she  answered  categorically. 

Her  mistress  let  her  hand  fall  on  the  coverlet,  a 
tenacious  little  fist.  "I've  been  lying  here  for  hours, 
staring  at  nothing,  and  hating  some  one  worse  and 
worse." 

"Who  can  it  be,  my  lady?" 

"A  man." 

Rachel  echoed  the  word  incredulously. 

"Yes,  a  man;  a  cold,  cruel  creature,  unmannered, 
bitter-tongued,  evil-eyed ;  a  hateful  man !"  The  lady 
drew  herself  up  on  her  elbow.  "A  very  ogre, 
Rachel!" 

"The  good  saints  save  us !"  exclaimed  the  startled 
maid. 

"Yes,  so  I  say.  Save  us  from  looking  on  his  hard 
face  again !" 

"What  would  he  do  to  you?"  asked  Rachel,  full  of 
curiosity. 

"Marry  me;  marry  me  out  of  hand,  as  a  groom 
would  bridle  a  horse." 

The  maid  considered  that,  her  head  tipped  a  little 
to  one  side.  "Indeed,  and  it's  not  an  unnatural  wish, 
perhaps,"  she  concluded. 

The  lady  blushed,  and  sat  upright.  "You  would 
cozen  me,  Rachel.  No,  it's  not  the  man's  eyes  I  find 
fault  with.  I  suppose  they  must  serve  him  for  look- 
ing. It's  the  black  heart  behind  the  eyes."  She  drew 
her  knees  up  under  the  coverlet,  and,  chin  in  her 


VERNEY  SHOWS  HIS  METTLE         97 

palms,  rested  her  elbows  on  the  height.  "Have  you 
ever  been  in  love,  Rachel?" 

"Oh,  my  lady  — " 

"It's  not  an  indelicate  matter,  foolish.  It's  the 
common  lot.  But  I  have  never  felt  it,  somehow. 
There  is  no  one  man  I  would  dress  to  please  above  all 
others."  Here  she  smiled.  "No,  I  think  of  them  all 
when  I  dress."  She  glanced  at  the  maid.  "Am  I 
too  forward,  Rachel?  Do  I  talk  unmaidenlike?  Set 
it  down  then  because  I  am  unhappy.  A  girl  must 
find  her  entertainment  somehow." 

With  that  she  surrendered  herself  into  Rachel's 
care,  and  for  a  half-hour  the  maid  was  very  busy. 
Again  the  wonderful  chests  and  wardrobes  were  ran- 
sacked, and  stockings  and  slippers  cast  about  until 
shades  that  suited  the  chosen  gown  were  found. 
Pamela  did  her  own  hair  loosely  about  her  head. 
"There's  nothing  so  fetching  as  simplicity,"  she  ob- 
served, as  she  sat  before  the  mirror,  "but  it's  so 
monstrous  difficult  to  come  by." 

She  was  satisfied  at  last;  and  then  she  remembered 
something  the  toilet  had  driven  from  her  mind.  "But 
I'm  a  prisoner,  Rachel!"  she  exclaimed.  "My  lord 
and  I  had  hot  words  last  night,  and  he  bade  me  keep 
to  my  rooms.  The  hateful  creature!  I  was  not  to 
stir  beyond  them  — "  she  hesitated  a  moment,  "and  I 
don't  believe  I'd  better." 

The  maid  was  busy  putting  the  room  to  rights. 
"Never  mind  that,"  said  Pamela.  "Get  me  some 


food.  I'm  famished."  She  spoke  so  positively  that 
Rachel  bounced  out  of  the  room  in  a  hurry. 

When  she  had  finished  breakfast  Pamela  sat  down 
at  the  wide  casement  window.  She  was  homesick, 
and  would  have  given  all  the  broad  lawns,  glowing 
flower-beds  and  great  trees  in  the  world  for  a  sight 
of  the  shabby  houses  in  Pump  Lane.  There  was 
nothing  for  her  to  do,  and  she  would  not  sew  or  read. 
Twice  she  decided  to  leave  her  rooms,  and  twice 
stopped  with  her  hand  on  the  door  that  led  into  the 
hallway.  She  did  not  want  to  meet  the  Marquis, 
since  she  felt  quite  certain  that  he  intended  to  see 
that  he  was  obeyed. 

Presently,  in  the  writing-room,  she  sat  down  at  the 
little  table  and  pulled  paper  and  quill  pen  toward 
her.  With  much  difficulty  she  wrote,  "Dearest  Gilly : 
I  miss  you  and  Kate  very  much.  This  place  is  very 
lonely,  there  is  so  much  space,  and  no  noises.  The 
Marquis  has  come  back.  I  hate  him.  He  does  not 
like  people,  nor  anything  but  his  own  way.  He  is  a 
monster.  I'll  stay  in  my  rooms  until  the  time  is 
gone.  I  wish  I  were  back  in  the  Lane.  Your  loving 
Sally." 

She  dried  the  writing  with  sand,  and  read  it  over. 
Then  she  considered  whether  she  should  send  it, 
meantime  gazing  out  through  the  window.  It  would 
be  next  to  impossible  for  her  to  find  a  messenger  to 
take  a  letter  to  London,  and  should  the  note  reach 
Gilbert  it  would  only  make  him  more  uneasy  than 


VERNEY  SHOWS  HIS  METTLE         99 

ever  for  her.  Finally  she  tore  the  writing  into  little 
bits,  and  threw  them  on  the  floor. 

The  day  seemed  very  long  to  Pamela.  Rachel 
brought  in  a  great  basket  of  flowers,  and  her  mis- 
tress put  them  in  vases  about  her  rooms.  At  mid- 
afternoon  she  lunched  on  nectarines  and  cakes.  But 
when  the  shadows  began  to  lengthen  out-of-doors 
she  could  stand  the  inactivity  no  longer.  She  con- 
sidered what  she  might  do,  and  then  sat  down  at  the 
table,  and  wrote  to  Lord  Verney.  "The  black  man 
will  not  let  me  out  of  my  rooms  in  the  west  wing.  Do 
something  for  me."  She  signed  it  with  an  S.  Then 
she  sealed  the  note,  and  bade  Rachel  give  it  privately 
to  one  of  the  grooms,  with  directions  as  to  how  he 
might  learn  in  the  village  where  the  gentleman  ad- 
dressed was  to  be  found. 

The  lovely,  lonely  summer  night  drew  on,  and  the 
girl  sat  at  her  window  like  a  prisoned  bird.  Every 
now  and  then  she  thought  of  Romsey,  and  wondered 
what  he  was  doing,  but  she  caught  no  sight  of  him 
on  the  lawn,  and  presently,  for  want  of  a  better 
occupation,  she  went  to  bed. 

When  she  woke  the  next  day  the  sun  imperatively 
summoned  her  out  of  bed,  as  he  often  called  to  her 
through  the  little  window-panes  of  her  attic  room  in 
Pump  Lane.  She  sprang  up,  and  in  her  bare  feet 
ran  to  the  seat  beneath  the  windows,  and  knelt  on  it. 
The  air  was  crystal-clear,  and  the  far-reaching  park 
delightful  to  the  eye.  But  the  view  was  only  of 


100     THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

trees  and  grass  and  hedges,  and  she  tired  of  it  in 
five  minutes.  "Another  day  like  yesterday !"  she. 
sighed.  "I  can't  endure  it !  I  will  go  out  and  play 
with  some  one — "  she  doubled  up  her  fist — "ogre  or 
no  ogre !"  She  tossed  her  head  proudly.  "I  can  give 
him  back  word  for  word." 

She  turned  from  the  window,  and  in  doing  so 
caught  her  reflection  in  a  large  oval  mirror.  She 
was  a  good  judge  of  beauty,  and  she  smiled  with 
pleasure  at  the  picture  she  saw.  The  lovely  creature, 
her  red-gold  hair  falling  loosely  to  her  shoulders, 
her  eyes  as  clear  as  a  sunlit  pool,  her  cheeks  like  dew- 
kissed  roses,  her  soft  throat  showing  at  the  opening 
in  her  lace-edged  nightdress,  was  far  more  radiant 
than  any  of  the  titled  dames  in  Cumnor's  portrait 
gallery.  She  dimpled,  and  shook  a  finger  at  herself. 
"Oh,  Sally  Temple,  you  are  pretty,  you  good-for- 
nothing  minx!" 

She  decided  she  would  not  dare  the  ogre  until  she 
learned  what  Lord  Verney  meant  to  do.  That  gen- 
tleman must  have  her  message  by  this  time,  and  if 
he  were  the  man  of  spirit  she  thought  him  he  would 
surely  contrive  some  way  to  entertain  her.  So  she 
dressed  in  a  lavender  gown,  that  would  have  been 
almost  too  daring  in  any  other  girl  of  her  color,  and 
breakfasted,  and  inspected  another  basket  of  flowers 
from  the  gardens,  and  chatted  with  her  maid. 

"And  what  does  the  Marquis  do  with  himself  all 


VERNEY  SHOWS  HIS  METTLE       101 

day?"  she  asked  Rachel,  as  the  maid  was  filling  the 
vases  in  her  sitting-room. 

"Indeed,  he  does  nothing,  my  lady.  Gregory  says 
he's  never  seen  such  a  man.  He  eats  little  food,  and 
swears  at  the  wines,  and  sits  by  himself  in  the  hall  for 
hours  at  a  time.  Sometimes  he  walks  on  the  terrace, 
back  and  forth,  back  and  forth,  like  a  bear  in  a 
cage." 

"A  pleasant  man,  indeed,"  said  Pamela.  "Oh, 
Rachel,  think  what  it  must  be  to  have  so  many  dark 
crimes  on  one's  soul!" 

"As  the  Marquis  has,  my  lady?" 

Pamela  nodded.  "He  must  have  thousands ;  and 
the  worst  ones !  Those  Italians  think  of  little  else. 
He  told  me  so  himself." 

"And  he  so  young !"  said  Rachel,  pityingly. 

"But  he  began  in  his  cradle,  and  now  they  troop 
before  him  to  torment  him.  At  least  I  hope  they  do." 

"The  poor  man!"  sighed  Rachel. 

"No,  the  wicked  one.    He  only  gets  his  deserts." 

At  one  of  the  clock  Pamela  had  dinner,  and  began 
to  wonder  when  she  should  hear  from  Lord  Verney. 
The  afternoon  passed  like  the  one  before,  and  the  sun 
hid  himself  behind  the  trees  to  the  west.  The  lawn 
below  her  sitting-room  window  was  in  shade,  and, 
looking  out,  she  envied  the  peacocks  that  were  strut- 
ting on  the  other  side  of  the  little  vine-sheltered  seat 
that  was  built  into  the  hedge. 

Starlight  had  come  when  she  caught  sight  of  a 


102     THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

man  crossing  toward  her  wing  of  the  house.  She 
knew  by  his  tall  figure  and  long  stride  that  he  must 
be  Lord  Verney,  and  waved  her  hand.  He  quickened 
his  pace  until  he  stood  under  her  window,  and  then 
saluted  her  with  a  sweep  of  his  hat. 

She  put  a  finger  to  her  lips,  and  he  nodded  com- 
prehendingly.  He  held  something  under  his  arm, 
and  now,  taking  it  in  both  hands,  he  made  a  gesture 
of  throwing.  Pamela  signaled  that  she  understood, 
and  reaching  out  caught  the  light  bundle  that  he 
tossed  up  to  her. 

It  proved  to  be  a  little  ladder,  cunningly  made  of 
rope.  At  one  end  were  two  loose  strands,  and  these 
she  quickly  knotted  about  the  leg  of  a  heavy  chest  of 
drawers  that  stood  near  the  window.  Verney  gave  a 
pull  at  the  ladder  from  below,  and  finding  that  it 
held  firm,  gestured  to  show  that  he  would  come  up; 
but  Pamela  shook  her  head,  and  motioned  him  away 
from  the  wall. 

The  rightful  Lady  Pamela  Vauclain  might  have 
found  it  hard  to  descend  even  such  a  short  flight, 
but  this  Lady  Pamela  was  both  strong  and  agile. 
She  slipped  into  the  window  ledge,  and  turning, 
caught  her  feet  in  the  rope  rungs.  Holding  her 
skirts  tight  about  her,  she  went  down  the  ladder,  and 
finally,  on  the  turf,  with  a  flushed  face  and  dancing 
eyes,  she  turned  to  the  young  man.  "Quick,"  she 
whispered  softly,  "to  the  gazebo  in  the  hedge !"  and 
ran  that  way. 


VERNEY  SHOWS  HIS  METTLE       103 

The  seat  she  had  chosen  was  well  sheltered  from 
the  house,  for  the  hedge  on  either  side  was  very 
thick,  and  vines  had  been  trained  over  a  lattice  so 
that  they  hung  like  a  short  curtain  at  the  front. 
Pamela  ran  in,  and  sat  down  on  the  bench  inside, 
and  Lord  Verney  followed. 

"How  good  you  were  to  come!"  she  exclaimed  joy- 
fully. 

The  young  man  was  beaming.  "I'd  have  come 
through  fire  and  water  to  you,  Sally!"  he  said,  his 
eyes  fixed  on  her  face.  Then  he  drew  a  little  packet 
from  his  coat-pocket,  and,  undoing  it,  showed  her  a 
girdle  made  of  cloth  of  gold,  and  with  a  buckle  set 
with  amethysts.  "The  closest  I  could  come  to  your 
incomparable  hair,"  he  explained.  "See  if  it  fits ;" 
and  he  slipped  the  girdle  about  her  waist,  and 
snapped  the  catch. 

"It's  perfect!"  she  cried.  "But  I  don't  deserve 
such  a  gift." 

"You  deserve  more  than  any  man  could  give  you," 
said  the  enraptured  suitor.  "Listen  to  me; — I've 
waited  so  long  for  such  a  chance  as  this." 

She  sat  back  dutifully,  looking  out  at  the  shadows 
on  the  grass. 

"I  love  you,  Sally ; — will  you  be  Lady  Verney  ? 
There's  nothing  under  Heaven  I  wouldn't  do  for  you. 
Think  how  happy  we  could  be  together ;  no  other  pair 
could  ever  be  so  happy.  We  would  live  in  a  little 
house  I  own  in  the  country — " 


104     THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

"But  not  on  bread  and  cheese  and  kisses,"  she 
interrupted;  "I've  too  much  appetite." 

"On  all  the  sweet  things  in  the  world,  dear  heart. 
It  would  be  paradise."  He  leaned  still  closer  to  her, 
and  caught  her  hand. 

"There  are  so  many  different  views  of  paradise," 
she  said. 

"Mine  is  the  place  where  you  are." 

"But  I'm  not  in  paradise  half  the  time,"  she  an- 
swered. "You've  no  idea  how  cross  and  sulky  I 
can  be,"  and  she  drew  her  hand  away  from  his,  pre- 
sumably to  fasten  a  loose  strand  of  hair. 

"At  least  give  me  leave  to  try  to  win  you,"  he 
pleaded.  "Say  that  I'm  not  distasteful  to  you." 

"Indeed  I  think  you  are  very  delightful,  my  lord. 
You  should  make  some  girl  very  happy." 

"Why  not  you,  then,  Sally?" 

"Well,  you  see — "  she  began;  and  stopped.  Ver- 
ney,  watching  her,  noticed  that  her  eyes  widened. 
He  turned,  and  saw  a  man  standing  not  a  dozen 
yards  away,  staring  into  their  shelter.  "The  devil !" 
Verney  ejaculated;  and  Pamela,  with  a  quick  intake 
of  her  breath,  murmured,  "Yes,  it's  he !" 

The  man  outside  stepped  a  little  nearer.  "Doubt- 
less the  seat  was  made  for  such  meetings,"  said  he 
evenly,  "but  it  happens  to  stand  on  my  land.  A 
kitchen-wench  and  her  lover  would  hardly  dare — can 
it  be  that  my  cousin — "  He  left  the  rest  unsaid. 

Verney,  a  straightforward  man,  got  to  his  feet. 


VERNEY  SHOWS  HIS  METTLE       105 

"It  is  I,  Verney,"  he  said.  "I  told  you  several  days 
ago  that  I  was  a  friend  of  this  lady."  Not  liking  to 
stay  in  the  shadows  he  held  out  his  hand  to  Pamela 
and  led  her  into  the  starlight. 

"So?"  said  Romsey,  his  eyes  taking  in  the  girl 
from  the  crown  of  her  head  to  her  slippers.  "I  bade 
you  keep  your  rooms,  and  you  do  this.  What  is  the 
meaning  of  it?" 

"I  thrust  myself  on  her,"  said  Verney.  "I  begged 
her  to  join  me  here." 

"No,"  Pamela  broke  in  quickly,  "I  came  of  my 
own  accord.  I'm  no  child  to  be  told  what  I  shall  do." 

"No  child,  of  a  surety !"  exclaimed  Romsey.  "And 
no  crack-brained  maid.  I  will  not  have  my  cousin 
meeting  men  in  the  dark.  In  Italy  we'd  deal  with 
such  a  matter  swiftly,  and  as  it  deserves."  He 
twisted  his  black  moustache.  "But  in  England — 
in  England  men's  veins  run  water,  and  they  talk  like 
schoolboys,  mumbling  about  for  words." 

Now  Verney  was  neither  slow-witted  like  the  Earl 
of  Dorset,  nor  adroit-minded  like  Sir  John,  but 
choleric  and  quick  to  resent  an  insult.  "I  don't  know 
what  you  have  in  mind,"  said  he,  "but  I'm  not  one 
to  stand  being  lectured  by  any  man." 

"I  had  in  mind,"  said  Romsey,  his  eyes  mocking 
the  other,  "that  in  Italy  if  I  found  my  ward  alone 
with  a  man  in  such  a  place  as  that  I  would  let  his 
blood.  A  blow  on  the  cheek — or  an  ill-sounding  word 
— and  we  should  see  what  manner  of  man  he  was." 


106     THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

"No,  no!"  cried  Pamela,  appealing  for  peace  be- 
tween them.  "There  was  no  harm  in  this !" 

"You  see,  she  says  there  was  no  harm,"  said  Rom- 
sey.  "She  knows  her  English  schoolboys  thor- 
oughly ;  don't  you,  Pam  ?" 

Lord  Verney  promptly  stepped  forward,  and 
caught  Romsey's  arm  in  his  right  hand.  "I've  had 
enough  of  this  talk,"  he  said.  "You  insult  us  both 
with  your  boasting  and  your  lies." 

The  dark  man  flung  the  other's  hand  away.  "Have 
a  curb  to  your  tongue!"  he  cried.  "I  may  forget 
it's  England." 

"Forget  what  you  will,"  said  Verney,  now  glaring 
at  him.  "I'll  teach  you  manners — and,  by  Heaven ! 
you'll  need  them  if  you're  to  stay  here." 

"My  lord,"  broke  in  Pamela,  "it  was  the  most 
innocent  meeting  in  the  world ;  I  was  tired  of  stay- 
ing in  my  rooms,  and  sent  for  him  to  entertain  me. 
Don't  let  hot  words  make  the  matter  worse."  She 
held  out  her  hands  to  Verney.  "And  you,  my  lord, 
I  beg  you  to  go  at  once.  It's  such  a  simple  affair. 
Good-night,  please  leave  me  now." 

Romsey's  eyes  were  on  Verney's  face,  and  the  lat- 
ter, as  if  drawn  by  some  spell,  had  to  turn  his  own 
from  Pamela  to  that  inquisitive,  malevolent  gaze. 
What  he  saw  there  made  him  shut  his  lips  tightly  and 
shake  his  head  at  Pamela's  appeal. 

"Well,"  said  Romsey,  "you  have  heard  the  lady ; 
will  you  go?" 


VERNEY  SHOWS  HIS  METTLE       107 

"When  I  am  ready,"  said  Verney.  Then  he  bobbed 
his  head  at  the  other  man,  and  added,  "Come,  let's 
have  the  matter  in  hand." 

"You  will  pardon  us,  Pamela,"  said  Romsey ;  and 
turning,  he  walked  toward  the  main  door  of  Cumnor. 
After  him  went  Verney,  his  head  high  in  the  air. 
The  girl,  greatly  agitated,  followed,  appealing  again 
to  Verney  to  make  his  peace  and  go. 

Romsey  went  in  at  the  door,  and  Pamela  caught 
at  Verney's  sleeve  as  they  came  up  to  the  terrace. 
"Oh,  for  my  sake  leave  him !"  she  begged.  "He's  evil 
as  a  snake,  he'll  do  you  harm.  He's  killed  many  men. 
For  my  sake  go !" 

"I  can't  now,"  said  Verney  abruptly,  and  pulling 
his  sleeve  loose,  followed  Romsey  into  the  hall. 

Pamela  looked  after  them,  very  much  alarmed. 
"Oh,  you  foolish  men !"  she  cried,  and  stamped  her 
foot.  "Why  don't  you  listen  to  me?  Oh,  you  men! 
And  all  over  nothing  at  all ;  both  mad ;  oh,  why  don't 
you  come  to  your  senses?"  She  stood  there,  calling 
to  them,  until  the  futility  of  her  words  occurred  to 
her,  and  she  waited,  feeling  strangely  deserted,  and 
utterly  unavailing  with  such  headstrong  creatures. 

Presently  she  moved  to  the  open  doorway  and 
looked  in.  The  hall  was  lighted  by  half-a-dozen 
candles,  and  in  the  middle  of  the  great  room  Romsey 
and  Verney  faced  each  other,  each  armed  with  a 
dueling-sword.  Pamela  gripped  the  wall,  and 
watched  while  the  two  tense  figures  moved  in  a  great 


108     THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

circle,  and  the  light  on  the  foils  showed  how  the 
steel  tongues  shot  in  and  out. 

It  was  clear  to  a  novice  that  Romsey  loved  this 
work.  The  two  were  of  equal  height  and  strength, 
but  Romsey's  sword-play  was  vastly  superior ;  his 
wrist  and  arm  were  perfectly  flexible,  while  Verney's 
motions  were  stiff  and  unskilful.  Verney  kept  on 
the  defense,  his  face  absorbed  and  watchful,  but 
Romsey  smiled  and  his  eyes  shone.  His  own  peculiar 
grace  made  the  other  seem  singularly  awkward,  and 
as  his  confidence  in  his  skill  grew  his  sword-play  rose 
in  daring. 

Pamela  watched  the  wheeling  men  spell-bound,  her 
heart  beating  wildly  as  she  realized  Verney's  impo- 
tence, and  her  eyes  returning  again  and  again  to 
the  devilish  glow  that  lighted  Romsey's  face. 

She  saw  Romsey  lift  his  left  arm  suddenly,  thrust, 
and  in  some  way  catching  the  other's  hilt  with  the 
point  of  his  foil  send  Verney's  light  blade  clattering 
to  the  floor.  The  unarmed  man  jumped  backward 
to  save  himself,  but  Romsey  rested  his  foil  by  his 
side,  and  bent  slightly  forward.  "Take  it  up  if  you 
will,"  he  said.  "The  issue  is  decided." 

"You  are  the  better  swordsman,"  said  Verney, 
drawing  a  handkerchief  from  his  coat-pocket  and 
wiping  his  beaded  face. 

"You  might  learn  in  time,"  said  Romsey,  and 
added  with  a  chuckle,  "It  took  some  courage  for  you 
to  stand  before  me." 


VERNEY  SHOWS  HIS  METTLE       109 

"Indeed  it  did!"  cried  Pamela  from  the  doorway. 
"It  wasn't  a  fair  fight.  You  know  it  wasn't."  She 
hurried  to  Verney,  her  face  all  appeal.  "Oh,  be 
satisfied  now." 

"We  are  all  satisfied,"  said  Romsey.  "Bid  him 
good-night,  Pam,  the  matter's  ended." 

"Good-night,  my  lord,"  she  said,  but  it  seemed  as 
if  she  were  ignoring  Romsey.  "You  were  kind  to 
come  to  me  when  I  wrote." 

Verney  took  the  hand  she  offered  and  bent  over  it. 
"Good-night.  I  will  come  again,"  said  he,  and  with 
an  abrupt  bow  to  Romsey  he  stalked  from  the  hall. 

When  the  girl  looked  about,  Romsey  had  laid  his 
foil  on  a  chair,  and  his  eyes  were  considering  her. 
"You  said  it  wasn't  a  fair  fight,"  he  remarked,  "and 
it  was  not ;  but  that  is  the  way  of  the  world.  Some 
must  be  stronger  than  others,  and  I  am  stronger 
than  these  men  you  have  about  you.  Women  should 
love  strong  men." 

He  went  up  to  her  quickly,  but  she  put  out  her 
hands  defensively.  "Please  say  nothing  more  to  me 
now,"  she  begged.  "There's  been  enough  trouble 
to-night." 

But  his  eyes  caught  hers  in  spite  of  her.  "I  shall 
never  give  you  up,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice.  "You  are 
beyond  all  value  to  me.  Your  face  would  make  me 
do  anything,  call  me  through  the  Pit  and  far  beyond. 
I  am  no  child,  Pamela,  and  I  mean  to  have  you  for 
my  wife.  Give  in  to  me  now." 


110     THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

She  summoned  all  her  courage,  for  it  was  no  easy 
thing  to  dare  those  dark  eyes.  "No,"  she  answered, 
"never,  never,  never!" 

He  drew  back,  his  brows  angry.  "Yet  I'll  have 
you  one  way  or  another.  I'm  master  here.  Go  to 
your  rooms,  and  keep  to  them,  as  I  bade  you." 

"Very  good,"  she  said;  "I  prefer  to  keep  them 
when  we  two  are  here  alone." 

She  walked  past  him,  proudly  scornful,  and  went 
to  her  own  apartments.  There  she  sat  down  in  her 
sitting-room  and  thought  for  a  long  time.  She 
could  hardly  believe  that  she  was  still  simply  a  girl 
of  Pump  Lane,  she  seemed  to  be  dealing  with  such 
passionate  undercurrents. 

After  a  time  she  noticed  that  the  little  rope-ladder 
was  still  hanging  at  the  open  window,  and  she  drew 
it  in,  and  stowed  it  in  a  drawer  of  one  of  the  chests. 
She  looked  out  at  the  stars,  and  whispered  a  little 
message  to  Gilbert  Stanes.  "Oh,  keep  me  in  your 
thoughts,  Gilly,"  she  murmured.  "I  need  that  if  I'm 
to  weather  all  these  storms." 


vn 

THE  RESULTS  OF  AN  INDISCRETION 

THE  fine  weather  ended  in  two  days  of  rain,  which 
may  have  benefited  the  lawns  and  the  hedgerows, 
but  was  certainly  trying  to  Pamela's  disposition.  She 
was  restless,  and  kept  constantly  comparing  Lord 
Verney  with  Sir  John  and  the  Earl,  and  wondering 
if  admiration  of  the  former's  bravery  could  lead  to  a 
warmer  feeling.  It  was  hard  for  her  to  be  so 
cramped.  She  who  was  used  to  seeing  much  of  her 
neighbors  and  to  gossiping  with  them,  saw  only 
Rachel;  and  Rachel  proved  of  a  narrow  intelligence. 
Her  talk  was  usually  limited  to  intense  admiration 
of  everything  Pamela  wore,  or  did,  or  said;  and, 
although  the  girl  could  endure  that  attitude  for  an 
hour  or  so  if  the  part  were  well  played,  she  found 
the  flattery  bored  her  when  so  outspoken.  Finally 
she  yawned  in  the  maid's  face.  "Oh,  Rachel,  be  mer- 
ciful !"  she  begged.  "I'm  not  an  angel,  and  have  no 
wish  to  be — for  some  time  at  least.  If  I  could  have 
my  wish  I'd  be  the  most  popular  actress  in  England, 
which  is  quite  a  different  thing." 

"Oh,  my  lady !"  exclaimed  the  maid,  horrified. 
Ill 


112     THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

"Oh,  Rachel,  you  silly  woman !  A  popular  actress 
is  much  like  any  one  else." 

"But  surely  not  so  modest,  my  lady,"  objected 
Rachel. 

Pamela's  eyes  twinlded,  and  she  caught  her  two 
hands  back  of  her  head.  "Oh,  as  to  modesty,"  said 
she,  "there  are  so  many  ways  of  taking  that.  One 
of  your  country  wenches  will  wear  her  bodice  laced 
tight  about  her  throat,  but  her  feet  bare;  while  in 
town-  it's  the  other  way.  And  I've  heard  tell  that  in 
some  heathen  countries  it's  the  fashion  to  wear  almost 
nothing  at  all." 

"Oh,  fie,  my  lady !"  expostulated  Rachel,  blushing. 

At  that  Pamela  laughed.  "I've  shocked  you,  have 
I?  At  least  that's  something  new.  I  wish  you  could 
do  the  same  for  me,  to  make  the  time  pass  quicker." 

The  hours  dragged,  and  the  girl  beat  on  the  rain- 
swept window-panes  with  her  knuckles.  She  thought 
over  the  scenes  between  Romsey  and  her  three  suitors. 
Sir  John  had  talked  the  tyrant  into  silence,  and  Ver- 
ney  had  made  the  tyrant  concede  his  courage,  while 
the  Earl,  she  fancied,  could  stand  a  good  deal  of 
tongue-drubbing  without  loss  of  self-esteem.  Here 
were  three  wonderful  matches  ready  to  her  hand,  and 
she  could  not  decide  on  any  of  them.  She  sighed 
because  she  was  so  difficult  to  please,  and  yet  ad- 
mitted that  she  found  it  very  interesting  to  see  what 
such  different  types  of  men  would  do  to  win  her. 

She  had  made  up  her  mind  to  stay  out  the  time  at 


RESULTS  OF  AN  INDISCRETION     113 

Cumnor  in  spite  of  the  monster  Romsey.  She  told 
herself  she  was  not  afraid  of  him,  that  she  was  not 
afraid  of  any  man  in  the  world.  So  she  considered, 
and  drummed  on  the  window-panes.  But  the  hours 
passed  slowly,  and  she  went  to  bed  without  having 
seen  any  one  all  day  but  Rachel. 

The  next  morning,  which  was  still  rainy,  taxed 
Pamela's  resolution  to  the  breaking  point.  She  was 
unused  to  such  confinement,  and  it  tried  her  temper. 
She  must  have  some  excitement,  and  at  last  she  de- 
cided that  at  nightfall  she  would  go  down  to  the 
hall  and  beard  Romsey  to  his  face,  no  matter  what 
came  of  it.  As  she  was  having  dinner  in  her  sitting- 
room,  however,  the  sun  came  out,  and  her  spirits 
rose.  She  sat  at  the  window,  admiring  the  flowers  and 
trees,  fresh  from  their  bath. 

As  she  sat  there  she  saw  a  plump  young  man  ap- 
proaching the  house  from  the  west.  He  was  very 
elegantly  clad,  his  coat  being  plum-colored,  and  his 
trousers  bottle-green.  Pamela  regarded  him  thought- 
fully. To  be  the  Countess  of  Dorset  was  a  condition 
not  to  be  despised,  and  the  plump  young  man  would 
be  easy  for  a  woman  to  handle.  A  little  flattery 
would  keep  him  in  good  humor.  She  saw  him  stop 
to  loosen  the  neck-band  at  his  throat.  Some  day 
he  would  be  very  stout,  perhaps  quite  fat.  She 
laughed  softly ;  the  Earl  was  mopping  his  brow  with 
a  handkerchief. 

Pamela  watched  him  approach  by  the  path  at  the 


114     THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

side  of  the  gardens,  and  stop  to  stare  at  the  windows 
of  the  west  wing.  Then  she  leaned  out,  and  called 
"Good-day."  The  Earl  looked  up,  smiled,  and  took 
off  his  hat.  "Won't  you  come  down  ?"  he  asked,  in  a 
loud  whisper. 

She  had  an  amusing  idea,  and  calling  down,  "Wait 
a  minute,"  drew  back,  and  went  to  the  chest  of 
drawers  where  she  had  hidden  the  little  ladder. 
She  took  it  out,  fastened  it  securely,  and  unrolled  it 
from  the  window.  "Now,"  she  murmured,  "I'll  test 
his  devotion ;"  and  said  aloud,  "I'm  a  prisoner.  You 
must  come  up  to  me." 

The  Earl  considered  the  ladder  for  a  minute,  tried 
his  weight  on  the  lowest  rung,  and  then  cautiously 
began  to  ascend.  He  was  puffing  when  he  reached 
the  top,  but  managed  to  clamber,  although  clumsily, 
over  the  window-ledge  into  the  room.  "It's  like 
climbing  into  Heaven,"  he  said,  standing  up.  "Does 
he  really  keep  you  shut  up  like  a  prisoner?" 

"He  tries  to,"  Pamela  answered,  as  she  drew  up 
the  ladder,  and  threw  it  on  the  floor. 

"But  we  can  outwit  him,  eh?"  said  the  Earl,  much 
pleased  with  himself.  "What  luck  you  found  a 
ladder  ready  to  hand!" 

"Wasn't  it?  Though  I'm  doubtful  if  Lady  Pam 
ought  to  invite  a  man  to  climb  to  her  rooms." 

"I'm  the  soul  of  discretion,  Sally.  I  never  tell 
what  I  know." 

"Indeed,  and  that's  a  rare  trait  in  a  man.    How  do 


RESULTS  OF  AN  INDISCRETION     115 

you  find  the  milkmaids  of  Surrey — are  their  hands 
as  large  as  ever?"  She  sat  down  on  a  cushioned 
divan,  prepared  to  be  entertained. 

"I  didn't  come  here  to  talk  of  milkmaids,"  he  an- 
swered stoutly.  "See  what  I've  brought  you,  Sally." 
He  fumbled  in  his  waistcoat  pocket,  and  produced 
a  small  box.  Opening  it,  he  showed  her  a  gold  ring 
set  with  a  ruby.  "Let  me  put  it  on  your  finger,"  he 
said,  stooping  over  her. 

She  held  out  her  hand,  and  he  slipped  the  circlet 
onto  her  ring  finger. 

"It's  the  prettiest  ruby  in  England!"  she  ex- 
claimed, very  much  delighted  as  she  watched  it 
sparkle  as  she  held  it  at  different  angles. 

"For  the  prettiest  girl  in  the  world,"  said  he, 
sitting  down  beside  her  on  the  divan.  He  touched  his 
handkerchief  again  to  his  face,  and  cleared  his  throat 
as  if  for  an  oration.  "I  don't  know  how  much  you 
know  of  my  family,"  he  began.  "We  came  to  Eng- 
land with  William  the  Conqueror." 

"Yes?"  she  said,  encouragingly. 

"I  have  three  other  titles  besides  my  Earldom,  a 
house  in  town,  Holker  Hall  here  in  Surrey,  another 
place  in  Devon,  and  one  in  Yorkshire.  Fifty  thou- 
sand acres  of  land  go  with  the  titles.  That's  not 
bad,  is  it?" 

"Indeed  it's  not,  my  lord.     It  sounds  very  grand." 

"And  all  this  I  offer  you,  Sally,  if  you'll  marry 
me." 


"But  you  forget  that  I'm  a  girl  who  lives  in  Pump 
Lane,  and  plays  at  the  theatre." 

"No  matter  as  to  that,"  he  declared,  looking  at 
her.  "You're  the  prettiest  woman  in  all  the  three 
kingdoms." 

"Are  looks  so  much?"  she  asked,  demurely. 

"And  the  merriest,  and  the  brightest,"  he  went  on, 
more  warmly.  "I  place  all  my  titles,  houses,  and 
acres,  at  your  feet."  He  actually  seemed  to  be  de- 
positing them  in  bulk. 

"It  is  a  great  deal,  my  lord ;  but — in  marriage  the 
man  matters  so  much." 

"Why,  I'm  as  loving  as  a — as  a  turtle-dove,"  pro- 
tested the  Earl,  seizing  at  the  first  simile. 

"But  turtle-doves  are  too  gentle,"  she  argued. 

"And  as  obstinate  as  a — as  a — "  he  felt  about  for 
something  to  please  her  capriciousness. 

"No,  don't  say  it,"  she  begged.  "I  can't  stand 
obstinate  men.  Hark,  what's  that  noise?"  She 
turned  her  head  quickly. 

Some  one  was  knocking  at  the  door,  and  Pamela 
rose  and  crossed  the  room.  "Who's  there?"  she 
whispered. 

"It's  Rachel,  my  lady,"  said  the  maid's  voice. 
"Lord  Romsey  wants  you  to  join  him  on  the  terrace. 
He  says  you'll  enjoy  the  freshness  of  the  air." 

Pamela  hesitated.  "Very  well,"  she  decided,  "tell 
him  I'm  coming  shortly." 

With  mischief  in  her  eyes  she  looked  about  at  the 


RESULTS  OF  AN  INDISCRETION     117 

Earl.  "I  don't  suppose  you'd  care  to  make  a  third 
on  the  terrace,  to  enjoy  the  air?"  she  inquired. 
"Lord  Romsey  is  so  thoughtful  of  me  that  I  find  it 
hard  to  refuse  anything  he  asks.  I'm  afraid  I  must 
go,  though  I  assure  you  I'd  much  rather  stay  here 
with  yod." 

Those  last  words — as  she  spoke  them — were  honey 
to  the  Earl.  He  stood  up,  and  held  out  both  hands 
appealingly.  "Tell  me  where  we  can  meet  soon, 
Sally,"  he  begged.  "Name  some  place  where  this 
fellow  can't  find  us,  and  we  can  be  quite  alone." 

"He  has  more  than  a  thousand  eyes,"  she  answered, 
shaking  her  head  dubiously.  "If  I  were  only  Sally 
Temple  I  could  find  a  dozen  places,  but  the  Lady 
Pamela — "  and  she  gestured  with  her  hands  to  show 
the  difficulty  of  her  situation.  "But  you  must  go 
now,  for  he  soon  runs  out  of  patience." 

The  Earl  looked  from  the  girl  to  the  ladder  at 
the  open  window,  and  back  again,  and  began  to 
show  signs  of  the  stubbornness  he  had  boasted. 
"Romsey's  family  is  no  better  than  mine,"  he  said, 
pouting.  "Not  so  old,  in  fact.  I  don't  care  to  be 
treated  like  some  pot-boy  come  to  see  a  maid.  I'm  a 
peer  of  the  realm — " 

"Yes,"  Pamela  interrupted  briskly;  "but  you  are 
also  a  man,  and,  seeing  that  you  have  climbed  in  at 
my  window,  it's  easiest  to  climb  out  the  same  way, 
without  making  explanations  to  my  cousin." 

"As  a  gentleman,  it  seems  to  me — "  he  began. 


118     THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

"As  a  man,  whether  pot-boy  or  peer,  I  beg  you  to 
go,"  she  urged;  and  started  to  push  him  toward  the 
window. 

"I  have  no  fear  of  Romsey,"  said  the  Earl,  un- 
willingly lifting  one  foot  to  the  window-ledge.  "I'd 
like  him  to  know  that." 

"You've  made  that  clear  to  him,"  said  a  voice  be- 
hind them ;  and  Pamela  and  the  Earl,  turning 
sharply,  found  Romsey  standing  in  the  doorway  re- 
garding them. 

The  Earl  withdrew  his  foot  from  the  ledge,  and 
stood  up  very  straight.  "I  prefer  a  ladder  to  climb- 
ing stairs,"  said  he.  "It's  the  most  direct  ap- 
proach." 

"A  most  admirable  preference,"  agreed  Romsey, 
walking  into  the  room,  "and  one  backed  by  many  a 
famous  precedent.  Ladies  have  been  visited  that 
way  before,  though  I'm  not  certain  that  any  of  our 
house  have.  That,  however,  is  always  for  the  lady  to 
decide." 

"I  made  use  of  that  privilege,"  said  Pamela. 

"You  seem  to  make  use  of  many,  cousin,"  said 
Romsey.  "And  doubtless  this  gentleman  appreciates 
them."  A  gleam  of  malice  shot  into  his  dark  eyes. 
"And  does  he  let  you  do  the  suing  too — or  can  he  find 
his  tongue?" 

"I  speak  for  myself,"  said  the  Earl.  "If  there's 
anything  underhand  here,  it's  not  of  my  choosing. 
I  have  asked  this  lady  to  marry  me,  and  she  can 


RESULTS  OF  AN  INDISCRETION     119 

marry  into  no  better  family  in  England.  You  see  fit 
to  keep  her  to  yourself,  and  so  force  me  to  find  her 
as  best  I  may.  I  have  the  right  to  speak,  and  she  to 
hear  me?  if  it  pleases  her." 

Romsey  nodded  his  head,  as  if  quite  in  accord. 

"How  can  she  decide  whom  she  will  marry  unless 
she's  free  to  consider?"  the  Earl  continued,  warming 
to  his  subject.  "Suppose  you  wished  to  marry  her 
yourself;  wouldn't  you  let  her  compare  you  with 
other  men?  Otherwise  she  might  prefer  another 
after  you  were  wed.  I  ask  no  favors  but  a  free  field 
and  a  chance  to  speak,  and  that  is  every  man's 
right." 

The  little  man  was  warming  to  his  subject,  and  his 
usually  mild  eyes  were  actually  eloquent  as  he  made 
himself  a  champion  of  the  rights  of  love. 

"You  credit  women  with  brains,  then?"  asked 
Romsey,  his  arms  folded,  and  his  manner  inquisi- 
torial. 

"I  regard  this  lady  as  wiser  than  any  man  I 
know,"  retorted  the  Earl  with  zeal. 

"And  was  she  wise  to  take  you  into  her  rooms," 
said  Romsey,  "when  she  knew  you  preferred  a  ladder 
to  the  stairs?" 

"Doubtless  she  knew  she  could  trust  an  Earl  of 
Dorset  anywhere,"  asserted  the  little  man. 

"How,  are  you  all  so  virtuous,  then?"  A  smile 
curled  Romsey's  lips.  "On  my  word,  you  do  human 
nature  credit!" 


120     THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

"My  family  are  neither  rascals  nor  tyrants,"  de- 
clared the  other. 

Romsey  took  a  step  forward.  "Enough  of  your 
family !"  he  exclaimed.  "We  are  both  men  ;  and  my 
cousin  is  an  unsophisticated  girl.  I  prefer  not  to 
try  your  notions  of  virtue  too  far.  Will  you  leave 
by  the  stairs  or  the  ladder?" 

"I  will  leave  as  I  please,"  said  the  Earl,  hotly. 

"Of  course;  but  which  do  you  please?" 

The  Earl  turned  to  Pamela,  as  if  in  hesitation,  but 
her  smile  resolved  his  doubt.  "You  showed  me  the 
way  to  happiness  through  your  window  and  I  prefer 
to  retire  by  the  same  road,"  said  he.  "I  hope  to 
grow  familiar  with  the  pathway." 

He  made  quite  a  gallant  figure  as  he  stood  there, 
rising  against  Romsey's  malevolence,  and  the  girl's 
heart  went  out  to  his  spirited  stand.  "Good-night, 
my  lord,"  she  said  in  a  gentle  voice. 

Without  a  look  at  the  other  man  the  Earl  stepped 
to  the  window-ledge,  vaulted  up  to  it,  caught  his  foot 
on  the  ladder,  and  lowered  himself  outside.  No  one 
but  himself  knew  how  perilously  near  he  came  to 
breaking  his  neck  as  he  went  down  it. 

"Well,"  said  the  Marquis,  when  the  other  had  dis- 
appeared, "this  is  a  pretty  affair !  A  man  steals  into 
your  room  through  the  window,  and  we  let  him  go, 
unharmed,  to  boast  of  it.  I  should  have  flung  his 
fat  body  down  the  stairs!" 

Pamela  faced  him  hotly.     "And  you  steal  into  my 


RESULTS  OF  AN  INDISCRETION     121 

rooms  too,"  she  said.  "At  least  he  was  invited,  and 
you  were  not." 

Romsey  rested  his  hands  on  the  back  of  a  chair. 
"You  are  either  surprisingly  innocent  or  very 
daring,"  said  he.  "Such  adventures  as  this  do  not 
help  a  woman's  name." 

"Then  set  me  free!"  she  demanded.  "Do  you 
think  I  can  stay  in  this  place  day  after  day,  seeing 
no  one  but  Rachel,  amusing  myself  by  listening  to 
birds  from  my  window?  I  wasn't  brought  up  in  a 
convent ;  I  must  have  freedom,  or  there's  no  knowing 
what  I  may  do." 

"Have  it,  then !"  he  answered.  "I'm  not  afraid  of 
rivals  such  as  these.  See  them  where  you  will,  but 
remember  that  your  fame  is  mine,  and  that  too  great 
innocence  is  more  dangerous  than  too  great  knowl- 
edge." He  took  a  few  paces  up  and  down  the  room 
while  she  watched  him,  but  he  did  not  approach  close 
to  her.  When  he  stood  still  he  was  at  the  door.  "To 
these  three  you  are  a  woman  who  can  dress  to  please 
them,  talk  and  laugh  to  amuse  them,  but  to  me  you 
are — "  he  stopped  and  stared  at  her,  "the  woman 
who  comes  in  dreams.  I  have  waited  for  you;  and 
now,  by  the  living  God,  I  will  not  let  you  go!" 

She  grew  pale  before  his  passionate  outburst. 
"Please  leave  me,"  she  begged. 

"I  will  not  let  you  go,"  he  repeated.  "Since  that 
first  night  I  knew  I  would  not  let  you  go." 

She  plucked  up  courage  to  move  away  from  the 


THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

window  and  go  through  the  curtains  that  hung  at 
her  bedroom  door. 

Alone,  he  looked  after  her,  a  strange  far-seeing 
expression  on  his  suddenly  tempestuous  face.  In- 
tense •  feeling  had  banished  his  brooding  look,  and 
made  him  another  man.  Then  slowly  amazement 
came  into  his  eyes.  He  had  never  been  denied  the 
thing  he  craved,  and  he  could  not  understand  this 
new  experience.  Something  had  mastered  him,  and 
was  riding  him  as  the  relentless  Arab  breaks  his 
steed  of  the  desert. 


vm 


HHE  house  and  grounds  of  Cumnor  were  again 
*  free  to  Pamela,  who  was  at  liberty  to  do  exactly 
as  she  pleased.  But  in  spite  of  the  beautiful  gardens, 
the  kennels  and  the  stables,  the  lodge-keeper's  chil- 
dren and  the  nearby  tenants,  it  seemed  to  her  as  if 
there  was  always  a  shadow  lurking  in  the  background, 
the  figure  of  Romsey  watching  her.  The  great  estate 
should  have  been  a  paradise  in  summer,  and  there 
were  times  when  she  could  imagine  how  easily  it  might 
become  one ;  but  the  presence  of  the  Marquis  spoiled  it 
all  for  her.  His  image  kept  thrusting  itself  upon 
her  until  she  longed  for  Pump  Lane,  for  Gilly  and 
Kate  and  the  neighbors,  for  anything  to  shut  the 
thought  of  him  away  from  her. 

When  they  met  at  the  dinner-table,  or  in  the  hall, 
or  on  the  terrace,  he  was  civil,  and  at  least  pretended 
an  interest  in  all  she  had  to  say.  But  she  knew  that 
there  was  a  great  gulf  that  separated  him  from  all 
the  youths  and  men  she  had  known  in  London,  and 
the  gulf  seemed  to  have  no  bridging  for  her  feet. 

She  decided  that  he  was  capable  of  doing  unprece- 

123 


124     THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

dented  things,  indeed  she  sometimes  felt  that  his  na- 
ture craved  what  was  impossible  for  others,  but  no 
sooner  did  she  try  to  find  out  what  he  was  actually 
like  in  any  one  direction  than  he  checked  her  search 
by  some  contrary  word  or  act. 

She  was  in  the  garden  one  afternoon,  filling  a 
basket  with  roses,  when  Sir  John  appeared.  "You've 
proved  a  very  good  fairy  to  our  bride  and  groom," 
he  said,  "for  I've  just  heard  from  Charles  Tree  that 
he  and  his  lady  were  married  again  on  her  coming-of- 
age  birthday,  and  that  his  lawyers  have  made  her 
property  secure.  A  day  or  two  more,  and  you  may 
safely  take  your  flight  back  to  town; — unless,"  he 
added,  smiling,  "you  like  the  part  of  Lady  Pamela 
well  enough  to  keep  it  longer." 

She  shook  her  head  at  his  suggestion.  "The  part 
has  its  drawbacks,  Jack." 

"Meaning  your  guardian?  Has  he  been  unkind 
lately?" 

She  sat  down  on  the  garden-bench,  and  placed  the 
basket  of  roses  on  the  ground.  "It's  his  strangeness 
that  chiefly  troubles  me.  Do  you  know,  if  he  were 
any  other  man  I  could  almost  feel  sorry  for  him." 

"Sorry  for  the  monster!  Don't  waste  your  sym- 
pathy on  such  a  creature,  Sally,  when  others  near  at 
hand  deserve  it  so  much  more.  Here  am  I — " 

Just  then  a  voice  interrupted  them  from  the  other 
side  of  the  low  wall  at  the  end  of  the  garden.  "Dash 
me,  if  it's  not  Jack  Gorham !" 


THE  DRAGON  PROVES  HIS  TITLE   125 

Sir  John  wheeled  about.  "Why,  here's  that  rascal 
Verney!"  he  cried,  very  much  surprised.  "What 
made  you  come  down  here  in  the  country?" 

The  new  arrival  approached  them,  his  expression 
that  of  a  man  not  over-well  pleased  at  his  own  dis- 
covery. "To  tell  the  truth,  I've  been  trying  to  keep 
this  lady  company,"  he  explained,  "but  she  doesn't 
seem  to  be  in  need  of  that." 

"Why,  so  have  I!"  said  Sir  John.  "In  fact,  I've 
been  stopping  at  the  inn  in  the  village  for  a  fort- 
night, cooling  my  heels,  and  thinking  of  ways  to 
amuse  her." 

"While  I've  been  staying  at  my  aunt's  house,  doing 
the  same  thing."  Here  Verney  looked  reproachfully 
at  Pamela.  "You  never  told  me  Jack  was  at  hand 
too!" 

"I  didn't  know  you  were  so  much  interested  in  Sir 
John,"  she  said  sweetly,  and  made  room  for  the  two 
men  to  sit  either  side  of  her  on  the  bench.  "I'd  a 
notion  you  were  more  concerned  with — oh,  with  what- 
ever men  go  to  the  country  for." 

"Chiefly  concerned  with  you,"  burst  out  the  frank 
Verney. 

"But  think  of  me  at  that  lonely  inn  in  the  village," 
put  in  Sir  John,  "taking  my  dinner  alone;"  and  in 
his  turn  he  looked  his  reproach  at  the  girl. 

"I  thought  you  were  quite  busy  making  hay, 
Jack,"  she  said,  "while  the  sun  shines,  as  the  proverb 
says." 


126     THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

"But  my  sun  doesn't  shine,"  he  retorted.  Then 
as  he  looked  away  from  her  he  began  to  laugh. 
"Damme,  see  who  comes  now!"  he  chuckled;  and 
pointed  to  the  well-worn  path  that  led  up  to  the 
garden. 

"Our  little  Earl!"  cried  Verney.  "On  my  soul, 
this  is  a  pretty  party — much  like  town !" 

It  was  in  fact  the  Earl,  his  face  a  study  in  amaze- 
ment, who  bore  down  upon  them.  "Is  this  Vauxhall, 
or  Cumnor?"  he  demanded,  stopping  before  the 
bench.  "Sally,  where  did  these  two  drop  from?" 

"Drop  from?"  echoed  Sir  John.  "Why,  I've  been 
living  in  the  country." 

"And  so  have  I,"  said  Verney.  "It's  you  who  are 
the  stranger." 

"I  opened  Holker  Hall,"  explained  the  Earl,  "just 
in  order  to  be  near  our  Lady  Pam." 

Each  of  the  three  men  looked  at  the  girl  accus- 
ingly, to  be  met  by  her  laughter.  "I'd  a  notion  that 
men  were  better  pleased  when  they  thought  they  had 
a  field  all  to  themselves,"  she  protested.  "I  only 
meant  to  please  you." 

"So  they  are,"  agreed  Verney.  "There  was  no 
need  of  you  two  bearing  her  company." 

"Listen  to  him !"  exclaimed  Sir  John.  "I'll  wager 
we'd  each  say  the  same." 

The  Earl  was  fidgeting  nervously  from  one  foot 
to  the  other,  and  swinging  his  hat  in  his  hand.  "To 
make  the  situation  entirely  clear,"  he  began,  "allow 


THE  DRAGON  PROVES  HIS  TITLE  127 

me  to  say  that  I  have  asked  her  to  do  me  the  honor  of 
becoming  the  Countess  of  Dorset." 

There  was  a  pause,  broken  ultimately  by  Lord 
Verney.  "But  I  have  asked  her  to  marry  me,"  he 
declared  stubbornly. 

Sir  John,  sitting  close  beside  her,  looked  into 
Pamela's  face.  "She  is  also  considering  my  pro- 
posal," said  he,  suavely. 

The  girl,  more  flushed  at  each  speech,  gazed  down 
at  her  lap.  "You  see  how  it  is,"  she  said,  "you  have 
all  been  so  kind  to  me.  Now  what  is  a  poor,  simple- 
minded  maid  to  decide?" 

"There  are  the  best  of  reasons  why  you  should 
take  me,"  began  the  Earl. 

"What  have  reasons  to  do  with  it?"  interrupted 
Verney  warmly.  "The  truth  of  the  matter  is  that 
every  man  with  eyes  in  his  head  loves  Sally  Temple !" 

Sir  John  nodded.  "You're  right  there.  Now  I 
shouldn't  wonder  if  even  the  black  Romsey  was  fall- 
ing under  her  spell."  Again  he  looked  closely  at  the 
girl.  "Is  it  so?  Hasn't  the  Marquis  hinted — any- 
thing?" 

The  word  "hint"  was  so  incongruous  that  the  girl 
flushed  deeper  than  ever,  and  actually  had  to  laugh. 

"Has  he  dared  to  make  love  to  you?"  demanded 
Verney. 

"He  has  his  own  way  of  doing  things,"  she  an- 
swered, evasively. 

There  fell  a  moment's  silence,  and  then  Sir  John 


128     THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

chuckled.  "What  a  pretty  pickle!  Four  of  us  here 
together !" 

The  Earl  was  making  ready  to  speak  again.  "I've 
met  the  man,  and  it's  certain  he  must  not  have  her," 
said  he.  "We  three  must  stand  together  against  him 
in  her  defense." 

"My  hand  on  that,"  said  Verney. 

"And  mine,"  agreed  Sir  John. 

"It's  most  unnecessary,"  said  Pamela.  "I  can't 
abide  him — that's  certain." 

"But  he  is  such  a  beast,"  put  in  Verney. 

"And  he  thinks  you're  in  his  power,"  declared  Sir 
John. 

"You're  all  so  kind  to  me,"  said  Pamela,  looking 
up.  "Surely  no  girl  ever  had  such  friends  before." 

The  idea  of  this  common  enemy  gave  the  three  men 
a  bond,  but  none  of  them  wished  to  leave  the  field  free 
to  his  rivals,  and  it  was  evident  that  no  one  could  do 
much  to  further  his  own  cause  in  the  presence  of  the 
others.  Therefore,  when  a  footman  arrived  with 
word  that  dinner  waited,  though  Pamela  invited  them 
all  to  stay,  the  three,  as  though  by  some  tacit  under- 
standing, declined  the  invitation  unanimously. 

"At  least  we  have  nothing  to  fear  from  him,"  said 
Sir  John,  after  they  took  their  leave. 

"We  can  be  assured  of  that,"  Verney  agreed. 

"He  puts  me  in  mind,"  declared  the  Earl,  "of  a 
scurvy  dog  in  the  manger.  And,"  he  added  stoutly, 
"I  for  one  don't  fear  his  bark  nor  his  bite." 


THE  DRAGON  PROVES  HIS  TITLE   129 

Then  the  three  marched  away  together,  while  Sally, 
catching  her  basket  of  flowers  on  her  arm,  waved  her 
hand  and  smiled  after  them,  finding  them  all  good 
fellows,  each  in  his  different  way. 

It  was  a  striking  contrast  to  go  from  these  three 
gentlemen,  each  of  them  trying  to  please  her,  into 
the  great  dark-paneled  dining-room,  and  find  herself 
seated  opposite  to  the  forbidding  Romsey.  She  still 
felt  that  sense  of  tension  whenever  she  looked  up 
from  her  plate  and  found  his  eyes  fixed  on  her,  and 
the  blood  came  quickly  to  her  cheeks  when  his  low 
voice  broke  the  silence  that  frequently  settled  on 
them.  During  dinner  that  day  she  had  the  sensation 
that  he  was  keeping  some  matter  of  importance 
in  reserve,  and  trying  to  curb  the  impatience  that  was 
habitual  with  him.  She  was  glad  when  dinner  was 
finished,  and  she  could  go  to  her  own  rooms,  and 
later  leave  the  house  and  walk  across  the  free  fields  to 
the  cottage  of  an  old  woman,  crippled  with  rheuma- 
tism, who  blessed  her  for  her  cheering  company. 

By  nightfall  she  was  back  at  Cumnor.  It  pleased 
her  to  dress  in  a  different  gown,  as  if  that  would  tend 
to  lighten  the  evening  she  must  spend  under  the  same 
roof  with  Romsey.  At  supper  she  told  him  of  her 
visits  to  his  tenants,  while  he  made  short  comments, 
or  listened  in  his  morose  silence. 

When  she  left  the  dining-room  she  seated  herself  at 
her  favorite  window  in  the  hall,  and  fell  into  her  cus- 
tom of  picturing  Gilly  sitting  at  his  window  at  this 


130     THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

hour,  looking  into  the  Lane.  Presently  she  heard 
Romsey  approach,  and  looked  up  at  him,  attempting 
a  friendly  smile.  "Does  the  country  make  you  restless 
at  night?"  she  asked,  for  want  of  something  to  say. 

"How  long  is  this  stubbornness  of  yours  to  last, 
Pamela?"  he  said,  ignoring  her  question. 

"This  stubbornness  of  mine?"  she  repeated,  as  if  in 
surprise. 

"Yes ;  you've  seen  these  other  men,  and  you've  seen 
me;  let's  have  the  matter  settled." 

"Perhaps  I  had  better  leave  Cumnor,  and  go  some- 
where else,"  she  suggested. 

Instantly  she  caught  the  old  imperious  flash  in  his 
eye.  "You  shall  not  leave  Cumnor,  and  you  shall 
hear  plain  speech  from  me.  You're  not  in  love  with 
any  of  those  three." 

She  looked  away  from  him,  letting  the  truth  of 
his  statement  go  by  default  of  any  answer. 

"And  you  never  will  be,"  he  went  on,  even  more 
positively.  "And  that  being  settled,  there  remains 
me."  He  reached  out  his  hand  to  an  arm-chair,  and 
pulling  it  around,  sat  down  in  it.  "I  must  teach  you 
to  understand  me,"  he  said.  "I  have  been  alone  the 
greater  part  of  my  life,  and  never  went  to  school  and 
college  as  English  boys  do,  but  have  lived  chiefly 
with  older  people,  or  with  servants,  whose  whole  con- 
cern was  to  do  my  bidding.  The  men  and  women  of 
my  own  class  that  I've  known  have  all  spent  their 
days  at  the  same  business — helping  themselves  to 


THE  DRAGON  PROVES  HIS  TITLE   131 

whatever  they  wanted.  Once  I  talked  for  several 
days  with  a  Bishop  of  Rome,  and  I  thought  he  was 
going  to  show  me  something  new,  but  later  I  learned 
that  he  was  spoiling  the  treasury  of  a  dozen  abbeys 
to  heap  their  revenues  on  his  Messalina,  and  so  his 
talk  lost  its  value.  Every  one  was  greedy ;  even  the 
people,  who  lived  like  beasts,  doubtless  took  what- 
ever they  could.  So  I  did  like  the  rest,  and  took  this 
and  that  and  the  other,  until  my  appetite  was  gone." 
His  fingers  tightened  on  the  arms  of  his  chair  as  he 
stared  at  her.  "We  are  gluttons  all.  Sometimes  I 
hate  the  whole  wolfish  pack,  myself  among  them." 
He  dropped  into  his  brooding. 

The  girl  was  looking  out  at  the  park,  now  almost 
swallowed  by  the  darkness,  and  lonely  as  a  desert. 

"But  since  the  world  is  so  we  must  take  it  so,"  he 
muttered. 

"And  you  think  you  know  it?"  she  asked,  her 
thoughts  on  Pump  Lane. 

"I  knew  it  before  I  was  twenty;  I  went  to  the 
Pope's  court  at  Rome  when  I  was  eighteen." 

There  was  a  long  pause  before  he  spoke  again. 
"I  came  back  to  England  despising  everything  in  it, 
because  I  had  learned  in  Italy  that  the  English  are 
hypocrites.  But  I  have  found  something  new  here 
in  finding  you,  something  I  never  thought  to  find  at 
all." 

"I'm  sorry,"  she  answered,  as  quietly  as  she  could. 

Romsey  leaned  forward.     "Sorry!     When  I  have 


132     THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLF 

found  you  at  last !  Now  you  understand  me.  We 
are  wasting  time.  I  must  make  up  your  mind  for  you. 
I  shall  have  the  curate  here  to-morrow ;  and  he  shall 
wed  us.  The  world  will  call  it  a  very  proper  match." 

The  girl  instantly  stiffened.  "Not  if  you  were  the 
only  man  alive!"  she  said,  passionately. 

"I  shall  settle  this  matter,"  he  returned,  nodding 
at  her.  Then  he  stood  up,  and  with  a  slight  inclina- 
tion of  the  head  turned,  and  went  through  the  door- 
way that  led  to  his  own  apartments. 

Pamela  kept  her  tongue,  though  a  storm  of  words 
came  hurrying  to  her  lips.  She  longed  to  make  re- 
turn for  his  domineering  speech  and  manner,  but 
knew  that  it  was  impossible  for  her.  In  his  world  his 
ward  and  cousin  was  virtually  his  chattel,  and  there 
would  be  nothing  wrong  in  ordering  the  clergyman 
to  marry  her  to  him.  She  trembled  as  she  thought  of 
such  a  situation,  and  her  monstrous  plight  if  she 
were  really  his. 

After  a  time  her  native  sense  came  to  her  aid.  If 
she  stayed  another  day  at  Cumnor  he  would  have  the 
curate  there ;  if  she  told  him  that  she  was  not  his 
cousin,  the  Lady  Pamela  Vauclain,  but  only  Sally 
Temple,  an  actress  of  Pump  Lane,  she  would  be  at 
his  mercy,  and  he  would  not  be  apt  to  be  gentle  with 
her  when  he  learned  how  he  had  been  tricked.  Out  of 
her  thoughts  one  idea  came  clearly,  that,  although  the 
month  she  had  meant  to  stay  was  not  yet  up,  she 
must  escape  from  Cumnor.  She  had  gained  some 


THE  DRAGON  PROVES  HIS  TITLE   133 

advantage  for  Charles  Tree  and  his  bride,  and  must 
look  out  for  herself. 

She  knew  that  this  was  what  Gilly  would  advise 
her,  and  before  she  left  her  seat  at  the  window  she 
had  laid  her  plans  for  getting  back  to  town. 

As  she  stood  in  her  handsome  bedroom  taking  a 
gilded  fillet  from  her  hair,  she  gave  a  sigh  of  relief 
as  she  thought  that  this  was  the  last  night  she  would 
sleep  beneath  the  same  roof  with  Romsey.  She  felt 
no  regret  at  leaving  the  fine  apartments,  nor  the 
gowns  and  jewels,  nor  her  station  as  a  lady  of  qual- 
ity ;  she  would  far  rather  be  the  simple  girl  of  Lon- 
don, with  her  little  attic  chamber,  her  few  dresses, 
and  the  liberty  of  the  town.  "To-morrow  or  the  next 
night  I  should  see  Gilly  and  Kate!"  she  murmured, 
as  she  climbed  into  her  high  bed,  "and  I  hope  I  may 
never  look  into  this  man's  bitter  face  again !" 


rx 

THE  FLIGHT  OF  THE  LADY 

THE  sun  had  only  lately  risen  when  our  Lady  Pa- 
mela opened  her  eyes  next  morning.  She  did  not 
go  to  sleep  again,  but  jumped  out  of  bed  in  a  most 
business-like  manner,  and  began  to  dress.  She  chose 
the  same  clothes  she  had  worn  to  Cumnor,  looking  a 
little  doubtful,  however,  at  the  shoes,  which  were 
really  only  slippers,  and  not  over-serviceable  for 
walking.  She  spent  small  time  on  her  toilette,  and 
finished  by  binding  her  hair  close,  and  putting  on  her 
straw  hat  with  the  cherry  ribbons.  In  the  small  silk 
bag  that  held  her  money  she  placed  the  three  gifts 
she  had  won,  the  ruby  ring,  the  golden  girdle,  and 
the  necklet  of  pearls,  and  fastened  the  bag  inside  her 
waist.  In  a  wardrobe  she  found  a  cloak  that  would 
protect  her  from  bad  weather,  and  into  this  she 
slipped,  and  then,  satisfied  that  she  was  ready  for 
the  exigencies  of  her  journey,  opened  her  door,  and 
stole  downstairs. 

She  suspected  that  Romsey  had  learned  of  the 
visits  of  Verney  and  the  Earl  from  some  of  his  serv- 
ants, and  so  was  careful  to  assure  herself  that  no 

134 


THE  FLIGHT  OF  THE  LADY         135 

one  was  about  when  she  left  the  hall.  The  terrace 
and  the  park  were  empty.  Hiding  from  the  windows 
of  the  east  wing,  she  ran  over  the  dew-wet  grass  to 
the  driveway.  The  birds  were  at  their  matins  in  the 
great  trees,  and  their  songs  gave  her  courage  as  she 
hurried  down  the  avenue,  looking  back  now  and  then 
to  guard  against  pursuit. 

The  great  park-gates  stood  open,  and  Pamela 
turned  her  back  on  Cumnor,  and  took  the  highway 
that  led  to  the  neighboring  village  of  Chantrey.  The 
Surrey  country  was  smiling  at  early  day,  the  hedge- 
rows were  not  so  high  but  that  a  traveler  could  look 
over  them  at  the  meadows  and  pasture-lands  that  lay 
beyond.  Our  traveler,  however,  paid  little  heed  to 
them,  for  she  was  wondering  if  there  was  a  coach  that 
ran  from  the  village  of  Chantrey  in  the  direction  of 
London,  and  at  what  time  of  day  it  passed  through, 
and  if  she  had  money  enough  in  her  purse  to  pay  for 
a  seat  to  town. 

Presently  she  remembered  that  she  had  had  no 
breakfast,  and  began  to  consider  whether  she  might 
not  stop  at  a  farmhouse  and  ask  for  food.  But 
there  were  few  houses  thereabouts,  and  each  time  she 
neared  one  the  highroad  beckoned  her  on,  and  sug- 
gested that  she  should  keep  to  it  until  she  reached  the 
village.  She  was  strong,  and  determined,  and  so  she 
pushed  on,  unfastening  her  cloak  as  the  sun  rose 
higher,  and  the  exercise  made  her  warm. 

A  man  in  a  coarse  blue  smock  came  toward  her 


136     THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

after  a  time,  a  shaggy  collie  trotting  at  his  heels. 
The  man  had  inquisitive  eyes,  and  a  humorous  mouth, 
which  gave  him  a  pleasing  appearance.  He  surveyed 
the  young  woman  who  was  hastening  along  at  such 
an  early  hour,  and  evidently  recognizing  that  she  was 
of  the  quality,  pulled  off  his  slouch  hat. 

"Good  morning,"  said  Pamela,  affably.  "It's  a 
fine  day  to  be  abroad." 

"Aye,"  agreed  the  man,  "though  there  be  herrin'- 
bone  clouds  to  the  west." 

The  collie  came  rubbing  against  Pamela's  skirt, 
and  she  slowed  up  enough  to  stoop  and  pat  his  head. 

"Come  here,  ye  rogue,"  ordered  the  man,  "doan't 
ye  be  disturbin'  of  a  lady." 

Pamela  smiled,  and  stepped  on,  leaving  man  and 
collie  standing  in  the  road,  looking  after  her  with 
frankly  curious  eyes.  She  wondered  if  the  man 
were  a  tenant  of  the  Marquis,  and  thought  it  very 
probable,  since  that  nobleman  owned  thousands  of 
acres  in  this  part  of  Surrey. 

Her  slippers  were  not  meant  for  walking  on  a 
rough  road,  and  before  long  she  had  to  slow  her 
pace  and  step  more  gingerly.  She  knew  it  was  not 
very  far  to  the  village,  and  she  had  figured  out  that 
any  stage  bound  Londonward  would  probably  not  be 
passing  through  there  until  later  in  the  day.  Soon 
she  met  a  fine-looking  man  with  silver-gray  hair,  who 
carried  himself  soldier-fashion,  and  like  the  man  in 
the  smock,  his  eyes  showed  his  surprise  to  see  such  a 


THE  FLIGHT  OF  THE  LADY         137 

pretty  woman,  dressed  so  modishly,  on  the  road  alone. 
The  girl  liked  his  appearance,  and  nodded  in  a 
friendly  way  as  he  uncovered  his  head.  "Is  there  a 
coach  for  London  passes  through  the  village?"  she 
inquired  eagerly. 

"Somewheres  about  noontime,"  he  answered,  "from 
the  Stag  and  Hounds." 

"Thank  you  kindly,"  she  said,  and  was  on  again, 
leaving  a  glow  in  his  eyes  at  the  sight  of  such  a 
lovely  face. 

The  slippers  began  to  chafe  atrociously  now,  and 
so,  assuring  herself  that  no  one  was  within  sight,  she 
sat  down  on  the  bank  at  the  roadside,  and  taking 
them  off,  rubbed  her  heels  and  the  soles  of  her 
bruised  feet.  She  rested  a  few  minutes  before  she 
started  on,  and  then  walked  cautiously,  since  she  had 
plenty  of  time  if  the  coach  did  not  leave  the  inn  until 
noon. 

The  highway  brought  her  to  a  height  from  which 
she  could  see  a  cluster  of  houses  lying  about  a  mile 
away,  her  destination,  the  little  town  of  Chantrey. 
Below  her  the  road  forked  beyond  a  clump  of  trees, 
one  line  meeting  the  yellow  ribbon  of  a  lane  that  cut 
through  the  green  fields  to  her  right. 

Throwing  her  cloak  more  loosely  back  from  her 
shoulders,  for  the  day  had  grown  warm  by  this  time, 
she  walked  down  the  hill,  and  followed  the  road 
through  the  trees.  At  the  fork  just  beyond  stood  a 
signpost,  one  arm  pointing  to  the  village,  and  one  in- 


138     THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

dicating  what  might  be  found  along  the  lane.  She 
stopped  to  look  at  the  signs,  and  as  she  did  so  she 
heard  hoofbeats  in  the  highway  behind  her. 

Turning  quickly,  she  discovered  that  a  chaise  was 
being  driven  rapidly  down  the  road.  She  had  no 
chance  to  hide  in  that  open  place,  and  so  simply 
stepped  to  one  side  and  waited.  The  chaise  slackened 
its  speed  as  it  drew  up  with  her,  and  she  found 
Gregory,  the  major-domo  of  Cumnor,  holding  the 
reins.  He  touched  his  hat  to  her  with  becoming 
deference. 

"I  ask  your  pardon,  my  lady,"  he  said,  "but  the 
Marquis  sent  me  out  to  fetch  you  back.  When  he 
found  you  had  left  so  early  he  was  very  much  dis- 
turbed, and  declared  that  he  had  particularly  wanted 
to  have  you  at  the  Castle  to-day.  He  bade  me  try  to 
find  you,  and  ask  you  to  drive  back  in  the  chaise." 

"I  don't  intend  to  go  back,  Gregory.  You  may 
tell  Lord  Romsey  so."  Nothing  could  have  been  more 
decided  than  this  answer. 

"But,  my  lady — "  began  Gregory,  the  urgency  of 
his  errand  requiring  him  to  argue. 

"I've  made  up  my  mind,  and  wouldn't  change  it  if 
he  sent  all  his  servants  after  me,  or  even  came  him- 
self." 

"He  rode  out  straightway  to  find  you,"  said  the 
man,  "but  thinking  it  most  likely  you  had  taken  the 
north  road  to  Holker  Hall,  as  Lord  Dorset  was  a 
friend  of  yours,  he  rode  that  way." 


THE  FLIGHT  OF  THE  LADY         139 

The  girl  gave  Gregory  a  look  full  of  the  most 
direct  appeal.  "And  when  he  comes  ba'ck  won't 
you  try  to  make  him  give  over  following  me?"  she 
begged. 

"He's  a  very  determined  man,  is  his  lordship," 
said  Gregory,  "and  that's  a  mild  word  for  him." 

"And  I'm  a  very  determined  woman,"  returned  the 
girl,  defiantly.  "I  will  not  go  back,  and  he  ought  to 
understand  that  I  mean  it." 

"His  lordship  only  understands  what  he's  a  mind 
to,"  suggested  Gregory,  insinuatingly. 

The  runaway  stamped  her  foot,  and  then  was  sorry 
she  had  done  so.  "I  am  free,  and  mean  to  stay  so," 
she  declared.  "He  can  make  what  he  likes  of  that. 
Goodbye."  And  she  turned  and  walked  on  toward 
the  village. 

"He's  a  very  determined  man,  my  lady,"  Gregory 
repeated  after  her ;  but  she  paid  no  further  attention 
to  him,  and  in  a  minute  heard  the  wheels  of  his  chaise 
turning  in  the  road.  When  she  did  look  back  he  had 
already  disappeared  beyond  the  trees. 

Although  her  slippers  pinched  her  feet  badly,  the 
girl  hurried  on,  for  now  she  knew  that  Romsey  was 
aware  of  her  flight,  and  she  had  no  wish  to  meet  him. 
Free  though  she  was,  he  was  a  great  nobleman,  and 
the  people  of  village  and  countryside  would  all  stand 
in  fear  of  him,  and  not  be  over-eager  to  help  her  in 
any  dispute  that  might  arise  between  them. 

But  when  she  had  gone  half  the  distance  named  by 


the  signpost  she  slackened  her  speed.  Soft  grass  at 
the  edge  of  the  highroad  invited  her  to  rest  for  a 
few  minutes,  and  ease  her  ankles.  She  sat  down,  and 
took  off  the  good-looking,  but  tight,  slippers ;  and 
gave  a  sigh  of  satisfaction.  She  folded  her  cloak  into 
a  pillow,  and  cushioned  her  head  upon  it,  and  looked 
up  at  the  soft-sailing  clouds  in  the  summer  sky, 
meaning  to  allow  herself  a  very  short  rest  before 
making  the  final  dash  to  the  village. 

The  voice  of  a  man  singing  made  her  sit  up  hur- 
riedly. Someone  was  coming  down  the  road  in  the 
same  direction  she  had  been  taking,  and  was  giving 
expression  to  his  love  of  music  in  a  voice  that  was 
strong,  even  if  not  consistently  on  the  key. 

She  thrust  her  tired  feet  into  her  slippers,  and 
caught  up  her  cloak  hurriedly.  The  singer  had  come 
into  sight,  proving  to  be  a  young  man  with  a  broad, 
weather-tanned  face,  and  a  big  body.  His  tight 
jacket  showed  a  pair  of  muscular  shoulders.  In  one 
hand  he  swung  a  wide-brimmed  hat,  while  the  other 
grasped  the  end  of  a  stick  that  rested  across  his 
shoulder  and  dangled  a  bundle  tied  in  a  blue  handker- 
chief behind  his  back. 

This  stranger  caught  sight  of  the  girl  sitting  in 
the  grass,  and  stopped  singing.  As  if  intending  to 
be  polite,  and  to  avoid  a  stare,  he  looked  across  the 
meadow  on  the  other  side  of  the  road ;  but  somehow 
his  eyes  would  irresistibly  come  back  to  the  young 
woman.  Meantime  she  was  admiring  his  broad-toed 


THE  FLIGHT  OF  THE  LADY         141 

boots,  and  thinking  how  comfortable  his  toes  must 
feel  in  them. 

He  came  opposite,  and  was  about  marching  past, 
when  temptation  overpowered  him.  "Might  I  do  any- 
thing for  you?"  he  inquired,  bluntly,  and  yet  quite 
respectfully,  and  at  the  same  time  stopped  in  front 
of  her. 

The  young  man's  clear  blue  eyes  had  an  honest 
look,  and  so  she  decided  had  everything  about  him, 
from  his  great  shock  of  brown  hair  to  those  enviable 
boots.  Here  was  a  creature  of  healthy  living  and 
good-nature,  and  one  evidently  intended  to  be  trusted. 

"I'm  bound  for  the  village  of  Chantrey,"  she  said. 
"It  isn't  far  now;  but  I've  come  some  distance  in 
these  slippers  that  weren't  made  for  walking,  and 
I  haven't  had  anything  to  eat  this  morning." 

Such  a  recital,  delivered  as  it  was  by  a  young 
woman  of  so  many  charms,  would  have  touched  the 
heart  of  the  sternest  anchorite.  This  big-limbed 
fellow  succumbed  at  once.  "Maybe  I  can  help  you 
then,"  said  he,  "for  I'm  going  to  Chantrey  too ;  and 
I've  bread  and  cheese  in  this  bundle  on  my  staff.  Will 
you  eat  some  of  it?" 

"I'd  eat  anything,"  she  answered  eagerly,  with  a 
little  laugh. 

The  man  straightway  swung  the  bundle  from  his 
shoulder  to  the  grass,  undid  the  knotted  handker- 
chief, and  produced  a  loaf  of  white  bread  and  a 
large  piece  of  Cheshire  cheese,  wrapped  in  a  brown 


THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

paper.  "It's  not  very  fine  fare  for  a  lady,"  he  said, 
apologetically,  "but  it's  right  helpful  when  a  body's 
hungry."  He  spread  out  the  handkerchief  beside 
her,  and  set  the  bread  and  cheese  upon  it. 

By  now  she  was  ravenously  hungry,  and  she  broke 
off  a  big  piece  of  the  loaf  and  of  the  cheese,  and  ate 
as  if  she  had  never  tasted  better  fare.  The  man  sat 
down  in  the  grass  near  her,  and  watched  her  with 
the  greatest  admiration. 

When  she  had  eased  her  hunger  she  brushed  the 
crumbs  away,  and  tying  up  what  was  left  of  the 
bread  and  cheese  in  the  handkerchief,  handed  it  back 
to  him.  "I  believe  you've  saved  my  life,"  she  said, 
smiling  at  him.  "Now  I  must  hurry  to  the  village." 

"Would  you  let  me  go  along  with  you?"  he  asked 
boldly. 

She  nodded  in  quick  decision.  "I  must  catch  the 
stage  to  London,"  she  explained,  and  in  a  glance 
decided  to  confide  her  situation.  "I  might  meet  with 
a  man  who'd  try  to  keep  me  from  going ;  and  if  I  did 
I'd  be  glad  of  someone's  help." 

The  young  man's  broad  face  beamed  at  this  sign 
of  trust  in  him.  "I  can  handle  any  man!"  he  de- 
clared stoutly.  "Don't  you  be  afraid!"  Then  he 
tied  the  bundle  to  the  end  of  his  staff,  and  held  out 
his  hand  to  help  her  to  rise. 

She  stood  up  in  the  road  beside  him.  "I  do  feel  so 
much  better  now,"  she  said,  and  as  she  started  to 
walk  she  added,  "This  man  is  a  very  great  person, 


THE  FLIGHT  OF  THE  LADY         143 

the  Marquis  of  Romsey  in  fact;  and  he  might  well 
be  in  a  frightful  temper," 

"Leave  him  to  me,"  said  her  new  friend  confidently. 
"I  be  not  afraid  of  anyone,  Marquis  or  other."  Then, 
as  if  he  feared  that  he  might  seem  over-presuming, 
he  added,  "Leastwise  I  be  not  afraid  of  a  nobleman, 
if  he's  rude  with  a  lady." 

His  ingenuous  words  amused  the  girl,  and  she 
studied  her  companion  out  of  the  corner  of  her  eye. 
"I  think  you  might  be  able  to  handle  a  dozen  men; 
you  look  so  big  and  strong.  You're  not  town-bred." 

"Not  I,"  he  answered,  shaking  his  head.  "My 
name's  Tom  Jellett,  and  folks  call  me  the  Byberry 
Boy.  I've  fought  a  score  of  battles  in  the  ring. 
Last  month  I  knocked  out  the  Bombardier  at  Shrews- 
ijury  Fair."  Here  his  modesty  checked  him.  "But  a 
lady  won't  care  to  hearken  to  a  prize-fighter." 

"Sooner  than  to  some  fine  gentlemen,"  she  an- 
swered. 

"Would  this  one  do  you  harm?"  he  asked,  incredu- 
lously. 

"The  harm  of  trying  to  force  me  to  marry  him, 
though  I  hate  everything  about  him,"  she  burst  out, 
as  if  in  relief  to  tell  her  tale  to  someone. 

"Would  he  so!"  exclaimed  the  young  man.  "He 
must  be  monstrous  evil  to  force  a  lady  to  such  a 
thing  as  that !" 

"Don't  let's  talk  about  him,"  she  said  perversely. 
"Tell  me  of  your  battle  at  Shrewsbury  Fair." 


144.     THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

So  Tom  Jellett  described  that  historic  encounter, 
softening  the  details  that  they  might  not  shock  a 
lady's  ears.  His  candid,  straightforward  manner 
of  speech  was  very  engaging;  and  his  story  helped 
to  make  the  girl  forget  her  tight  slippers  until  they 
reached  the  outlying  houses  of  the  little  village. 

Chantrey  was  a  small  place,  with  the  highroad  for 
its  single  thoroughfare.  Midway  of  the  rows  of 
houses  stood  the  inn,  the  Stag  and  Hounds,  a  low, 
wide  building,  with  a  great  red  sign,  bearing  a  pic- 
ture of  a  stag-hunt  done  in  yellow,  hanging  over  the 
entrance  to  the  court  inside. 

The  inn  was  built  in  the  form  of  a  square  about 
this  court,  and  in  front  of  the  entrance  was  a  fine 
stretch  of  greensward,  shaded  by  an  old  gigantic 
maple.  The  two  travelers  came  to  the  entrance,  and 
looked  into  the  inner  court  beyond.  A  boy,  with  a 
serving  apron  tied  about  his  waist,  came  forward 
at  sight  of  them. 

"When  will  the  London  coach  leave  for  town  ?"  the 
girl  asked  him. 

"It  ought  to  be  here  by  noon,"  the  lad  answered. 

"Then  there's  a  little  time  to  wait,"  said  Jellett. 
"Yon's  a  comfortable-looking  bench  beneath  that 
arbor,"  he  added,  pointing  into  the  court.  "Fetch 
two  glasses  of  ale  out  there." 

They  walked  under  the  arched  entrance  into  the 
court.  The  arbor  at  the  far  'side,  shaded  with 
grapevines,  looked  very  attractive,  and  the  girl 


THE  FLIGHT  OF  THE  LADY         145 

hurried  over  to  it,  and  sat  down  on  the  bench  with  a 
sigh  of  relief.  "I  should  be  safe  enough  here,"  she 
said.  "Oh,  these  slippers!"  and  she  took  them  off, 
and  rubbed  her  bruised  ankles  and  heels. 

"Safe  and  snug  as  can  be !"  agreed  Jellett,  sitting 
down.  His  face  expressed  more  than  satisfaction, 
it  was  filled  with  a  beatific  look  of  admiration  for  the 
young  woman  he  had  been  allowed  to  succor  so  far. 


OVERSEEN  FROM  AN  ARBOR 

THE  Stag  and  Hounds  at  Chantrey  was  ordinarily 
a  very  quiet  place,  with  the  arrival  of  the  coach 
for  London  bound  north  at  noon,  and  of  the  coach 
from  London  bound  south  about  five  in  the  after- 
noon, for  its  chief  excitements.  The  men  of  Chan- 
trey  gathered  in  the  ample  bar-room  on  winter 
nights,  and  in  the  court  or  under  the  giant  maple  in 
summer,  when  the  day's  work  was  done.  There  was  a 
private  inn  parlor,  much  used  by  visitors,  on  the  right 
side  of  the  house,  just  beyond  the  bar,  and  a  door 
opened  from  this  room  into  the  court. 

The  noonday  sun  was  pleasantly  tempered  by  the 
grapevines  that  clambered  over  the  trellised  arbor 
where  the  girl  from  Pump  Lane  and  the  prize-fighter 
sat.  The  waiter  had  brought  them  two  glasses  of 
home-brewed  ale,  and  they  were  much  refreshed  and 
very  comfortable.  The  fugitive  had  thrust  her 
stockinged  feet  into  her  slippers  again,  and  was  mak- 
ing sure  that  her  hair  was  in  proper  trim  under  her 
wide  straw  hat.  "It  seems  a  week  since  I  looked  in 

my  glass  this  morning,"  she  confessed,  "and  I  can't 

146 


OVERSEEN  FROM  AN  ARBOR         147 

think  how  I  must  look."  She  touched  a  tiny  handker- 
chief to  her  cheeks.  "You  must  tell  me  if  anything' s 
amiss." 

The  Byberry  Boy's  red-brown  face  actually 
flushed  at  the  suggestion.  "There's  an  ant  crawling 
over  your  skirt,"  he  said,  and  leaning  forward,  flicked 
the  intruder  away  with  his  finger. 

"Thank  you.     And  is  that  all  that's  the  matter?" 

He  nodded  very  positively. 

"Dear  me,"  said  the  girl.  "How  blind  men  are! 
These  ribbons  are  crumpled  and  untied."  She 
smoothed  them  out  as  best  she  could  and  fastened 
them  in  a  bow  beneath  her  chin. 

"I  hope,"  she  said,  after  a  pause,  "I'm  not  dis- 
turbing your  journey.  I  feel  quite  safe  now." 

"I  make  no  plans,"  he  answered,  "I  can't  change 
in  a  twinkle." 

The  quiet  of  noon  had  settled  on  the  inn-court, 
given  over  to  a  few  rustling  pigeons,  and  the  girl, 
having  done  what  she  could  to  remedy  her  appear- 
ance, fell  into  a  lazy  reverie.  Bit  by  bit  she  felt  she 
was  winning  back  her  old  assurance  of  spirit  as  a  girl 
of  London. 

As  they  sat  shielded  by  the  vines  a  maid  came 
through  the  doorway  that  led  from  the  inn-parlor. 
She  was  small  and  pretty,  doubtless  the  barmaid, 
and  as  she  pretended  to  run  into  the  court  she  looked 
back  over  her  shoulder  at  a  dapper  man  who  was 
close  behind  her. 


"Not  so  fast,  little  one !"  exclaimed  this  man ;  and 
at  the  sound  of  his  voice  the  girl  from  Pump  Lane 
sat  up  and  pulled  the  vines  aside  enough  to  look  out. 
She  saw  the  maid  run  part  way  across  the  court,  and 
the  man  overtake  her. 

"Why  fly  so  fast,  my  dear?"  said  the  pursuer. 
"Surely  there's  no  harm  in  one  little  kiss." 

The  maid  hid  her  saucy  face  with  her  bare  arm, 
but  stood  still,  waiting.  The  man  caught  her  about 
the  waist,  and  drawing  her  sheltering  arm  away, 
stooped  and  kissed  her.  "Come,  be  kind,"  he  urged, 
"and  give  me  a  kiss  to  show  there's  no  ill-will."  The 
little  maid,  standing  on  tiptoe,  did  as  he  asked. 
"There,"  she  said,  "but  I  never  kissed  a  gentleman 
before." 

"It's  all  the  sweeter  for  that,"  the  gallant  assured 
her,  "and  if  any  other  gentleman  begs  a  kiss,  you 
box  his  ears  for  him." 

"Oh,  mercy  me,"  said  the  maid,  glancing  about, 
"there's  someone  in  the  arbor!  I  can  see  them 
through  the  vines."  And  she  turned  and  ran  back 
into  the  house. 

The  gentleman,  however,  was  not  so  much  per- 
turbed. Instead  of  retreating,  he  walked  to  the  open 
front  of  the  shelter  and  looked  in.  But  instantly  he 
turned  brick-red.  "My  word !"  he  exclaimed.  "What 
are  you  doing  here?" 

The  girl  in  the  arbor  laughed,  and  the  more  she 
laughed  the  redder  grew  the  gentleman's  cheeks.  "I 


OVERSEEN  FROM  AN  ARBOR         149 

protest,  Sally,"  he  began,  "I  only  did  it  on  a  wager. 
Those  other  two — " 

"No,  no,  Jack,"  she  interrupted,  "don't  protest. 
You  wanted  the  kiss,  and  you  got  it.  You  ought  to 
be  satisfied." 

But  the  gentleman  looked  anything  but  that,  and 
stood  digging  his  heel  in  the  turf  like  a  truant  school- 
boy. "I'm  afraid  you'll  think  me  very  inconstant," 
he  said.  "The  truth  is—" 

"That  the  girl  tempted  you;  oh,  I  saw  her  do  it. 
So  what  Eve  said  of  the  snake,  men  say  of  women." 
Then  her  face  grew  provokingly  earnest.  "There  is 
no  such  thing  as  constancy  in  the  world,  and  I  must 
take  all  men's  speeches  with  a  grain  of  salt."  She 
looked  down  at  her  slipper.  "I'm  going  back  to 
town,  to  trust  in  myself  and  no  one  else." 

"The  monster  drove  you  away?"  said  Sir  John. 

"I  left  of  my  own  free  will."  Pride  shone  in  her 
eyes.  "That's  how  I  came,  and  that's  how  I'm 
going.  I  did  what  I  agreed  to,  and  now  I'm  free 
again.  Oh,  freedom  is  a  great  thing,  Jack!"  She 
looked  so  finely  self-reliant  that  Sir  John's  heart  sank. 
He  caught  the  eyes  of  the  big  man  beside  her  glow- 
ing with  admiration.  He  stopped  twisting  his  heel, 
and  stood  straighter,  as  if  copying  her  own  change 
of  manner. 

"You  are  very  wonderful  indeed,"  he  said,  "and  I 
don't  know  but  that  freedom  does  suit  you  best. 
There's  something  of  Diana  in  you." 


But  lest  he  should  grow  too  serious  she  smiled 
quickly  and  answered,  "Don't  press  your  words  too 
far,  Jack.  Second  thoughts  are  best  nowadays,  and 
when  we  meet  at  Vauxhall  we'll  both  be  wiser.  Do 
you  know  I'm  just  beginning  to  find  my  real  self 
again  ?" 

"You  never  lost  it,"  he  said.  "You  carry  it,  and  all 
other  charms  always  with  you;"  and,  realizing  that 
she  had  no  further  need  of  him  at  present  and  that 
the  moment  was  propitious  for  his  departure  he  bowed 
and  went  back  across  the  court  to  the  bar-room  door. 

The  girl  watched  him  go,  her  face  a  study,  and 
when  the  court  was  quiet  again  she  turned  to  the 
silent  man  at  her  side.  "Are  we  all  like  that — bees 
sipping  honey?  Does  every  woman  love  flattery? 
And  every  man  love  a  pretty  face?" 

The  broad-shouldered  youth  rubbed  his  chin  with 
the  back  of  one  big  hand.  "I  know  little  of  women, 
but  it  be  right  hard  for  a  man  to  overlook  a  pretty 
maid,"  he  said,  thoughtfully.  "It  do  seem  likely 
maids  were  made  pretty  for  that  very  reason." 

"You  may  be  right,"  she  assented;  "and  yet — it 
makes  human  kind  a  very  fickle  lot." 

"Was  he  an  old  friend  of  yours  ?"  Jellett  inquired. 

"Yes,  I'd  call  him  that,"  she  answered  with  a  smile. 
"In  town  they  think  him  a  very  clever  man.  But 
didn't  he  look  put  about  when  he  found  us  here?  I 
wonder  now  if  he'd  really  laid  a  wager,  or  did  he 
make  that  up  as  quick  as  he  saw  me?" 


OVERSEEN  FROM  AN  ARBOR    151 

As  she  was  pondering  this  two  other  men  came 
out  from  the  door  of  the  inn-parlor.  They  were 
arguing,  and  their  voices  could  be  heard  across  the 
court.  One,  who  was  tall  and  spare,  held  out  his 
left  hand,  and  kept  punctuating  his  remarks  by  jab- 
bing at  his  palm  with  the  fingers  of  his  right,  while 
the  other,  who  was  short  and  stout,  bobbed  his  head 
up  and  down.  "We  can  do  nothing  this  way,"  said 
the  first.  "Jack  and  you  and  I  have  fought  it  out 
over  the  table.  As  long  as  we're  all  three  here  to- 
gether, we  might  as  well  all  three  be  in  town.  But 
no  two  will  go,  and  leave  the  other  the  field.  Now  it's 
pleasant  enough  to  sup  and  drink  here,  but  kitchens 
and  cellars  are  far  better  in  London." 

"A  deuced  deal  better,"  agreed  the  stout  one,  bob- 
bing his  head. 

"Therefore  I've  a  sporting  plan  to  propose,"  con- 
tinued the  first  speaker.  "We  two  toss  a  sovereign, 
you  calling  the  turn,  and  the  one  who  wins  shall  do 
the  same  thing  with  Jack  Gorham;  it  being  agreed 
that  the  two  losers  shall  leave  the  field  to  the  winner, 
until  Sally  goes  back  to  town.  Otherwise  we'll 
only  dog  each  other's  heels  here,  and  none's  the  better 
off." 

The  stout  man  bobbed  again.  "This  way  none's 
the  better  off,"  he  repeated. 

"Then  it's  agreed,"  said  the  taller ;  and  he  put  his 
hand  in  his  waistcoat  pocket  and  drew  out  a  gold 
coin. 


The  other  surveyed  the  coin  very  thoughtfully.  "I 
choose  the  king's  head,"  he  decided. 

"The  head  is  yours,"  assented  the  tall  man.  "Now 
here  it  goes."  He  held  the  sovereign  between  thumb 
and  forefinger,  and  spun  it  up  into  the  air. 

A  laugh  caught  both  men's  attention  as  the  coin 
fell,  and  they  looked  away  from  it  to  the  arbor.  At 
the  same  moment  Sally  stepped  out  from  behind  the 
vines,  and  running  forward,  put  her  foot  over  the 
sovereign.  "Is  this  the  way  you  deal  with  my  favor  ?" 
she  cried.  "Toss  a  coin  to  settle  who's  to  see  me? 
Why,  in  that  case  I  am  certain  I  don't  care  to  see 
any  of  you." 

Verney  was  the  first  of  the  disconcerted  men  to  find 
his  tongue.  "I  assure  you,"  he  said,  in  his  most  im- 
pressive manner,  "we  had  no  thought  of  any  disre- 
spect;— but  three  men  who  stick  so  close  together 
as  we  can  get  nowhere  at  all." 

"We'd  no  notion  you  were  in  earshot,"  said  the 
Earl,  floundering  badly. 

"Oh !  Then  you  didn't  intend  I  should  hear  of  the 
plan,  my  lord?"  she  exclaimed,  her  eyes  finding  they 
could  not  keep  from  mocking  him. 

The  Earl  perceived  his  blunder,  and  looked  more 
foolish  than  ever,  so  foolish  that  Sally  had  to  relent  a 
little.  "It  makes  no  difference,"  she  said,  "for  I've 
left  Cumnor,  and  am  taking  the  coach  to  town." 

Jellett  had  followed  her  out  of  the  arbor,  and  now 
stood  watching,  like  a  spectator  at  a  play. 


OVERSEEN  FROM  AN  ARBOR    153 

"But  what  of  Romsey?"  asked  Verney;  and  the 
Earl  exclaimed,  "How  did  he  take  the  trick?" 

"I've  washed  my  hands  of  him,"  said  Sally,  "and 
he  may  take  the  trick  in  any  way  he  pleases.  I've 
played  my  part  till  the  curtain  dropped,  and  don't 
desire  an  encore.  I'm  famished  for  my  old  friends  in 
the  Lane,"  and  she  added  wickedly,  "as  hungry  as 
some  gentlemen  I  know  of  for  London  kitchens  and 
cellars." 

Verney  looked  at  the  man  who  stood  behind  Sally, 
and  a  frown  wrinkled  his  brow.  "You've  come  out 
victorious,  I  must  admit,"  said  he.  "Your  skill  is 
past  belief;  you  twist  my  sex  about  your  little 
finger." 

But  she  would  not  explain  Jellett's  presence, 
though  she  read  the  curiosity  in  Verney's  eyes. 
"You're  very  flattering,  I'm  sure,"  she  said,  "but 
when  your  sex  fall  to  arguing  it's  time  mine  took  to 
action."  She  lifted  her  foot  from  the  sovereign,  and 
stooped  to  pick  it  up.  "It  was  the  king's  head,"  she 
said,  and  handed  the  coin  to  the  Earl.  "Come  to 
see  me  in  London,  it's  your  due." 

Then  Sally  nodded  her  head  at  the  two  of  them, 
and  shook  her  finger  admoni shingly.  "Never  debate 
the  way  to  a  woman's  favor,"  she  said.  "Take  the 
field  and  hold  it ;  the  straightest  way  is  best,  cross 
hedges  and  all."  She  held  out  a  hand  to  each  of  them, 
for  Sally  could  never  be  severe  for  long.  "You're 
both  forgiven,  my  friends,"  she  assured  them.  "Come 


154     THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

and  learn  wisdom  from  the  player-folk  at  Drury 
Lane." 

Each  man  kissed  the  hand  she  gave  him,  and  with- 
drew into  the  inn,  feeling  that  the  mysterious  man, 
standing  back  of  Sally,  had  displaced  them  for  the 
time  at  least. 

"You've  seen  much  in  a  half-hour,  haven't  you, 
Tom  Jellett?"  she  said,  turning  to  him,  amusement 
in  her  face.  "What  do  you  think  of  it  all?" 

Before  he  could  answer  a  coach-horn  sounded  to 
the  south.  "At  last!"  she  cried,  "there  it  comes!" 
She  held  out  her  hand.  "Good-bye,  and  thank  you 
ever  so  much!" 

He  touched  her  hand  with  his  big  fingers.  "Good- 
bye," he  said,  soberly. 

"You  are  a  faithful  fellow.  Good  luck  in  all  your 
battles !"  With  that  she  hurried  across  to  the  little 
entrance  that  opened  on  the  highroad. 

Jellett  stood  still  a  moment,  his  eyes  as  wistfully 
hungry  as  those  of  a  deserted  dog.  Then  the  long 
tally-ho  sounded  again,  and  he  walked  slowly  after 
her  to  get  his  last  glimpse  of  his  flying  goddess. 


XI 

THE  ENCOUNTER  AT  THE  INN 

HHE  coach  had  come  to  a  stop  before  the  Stag  and 
•*•  Hounds,  the  driver  was  refreshing  himself  with 
a  vast  tankard  of  ale,  offered  to  him  by  the  serving- 
boy  who  had  climbed  up  and  stood  balanced  on  the 
near  front  wheel ;  the  postilion  had  run  to  a  trough  by 
the  roadside  and  was  filling  a  bucket  with  water  for 
his  horses,  and  two  passengers,  a  mild-faced  man  and 
a  woman  with  inquisitive  eyes,  presented  their  heads 
at  the  coach-window  for  a  view  of  Chantrey. 

"A  deuced  pretty  girl  that,  my  dear,"  said  the 
man  in  the  coach,  and  he  twisted  his  neck  a  little  more 
to  get  a  better  view  of  Sally. 

"I  hope  she's  not  going  to  crowd  herself  in  here," 
said  the  woman. 

"She  has  the  look  of  town  about  her,"  the  man 
observed.  "Those  slippers  now — ' 

"Her  color's  too  high,"  sniffed  the  woman,  "coun- 
try color." 

"She's  coming  over  here,"  said  the  man. 

So  she  was — when  something  stopped  her.    A  clat- 
155 


156     THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

ter  of  hoofs  right  at  hand,  and  she  turned  a  startled 
look  backward.  She  stood  still,  hesitating  whether 
to  fly  to  the  coach  or  back  to  the  inn,  and  on  the 
instant  a  horseman,  rudely  curbing  his  beast,  placed 
himself  in  the  road  before  her.  He  looked  as  ominous 
as  a  thunder-cloud,  and  his  right  hand  shot  out  at 
her.  "So  you're  here !"  he  cried.  "Trying  to  escape 
from  me!" 

Color  swept  her  face,  but  she  did  not  flinch  from 
his  glance. 

"Come  here  to  me,"  he  ordered,  "and  I'll  carry  you 
back  to  Cumnor." 

"I  am  not  going  back,"  she  said.  "Gregory  should 
have  told  you." 

Romsey's  hand  fell  with  a  blow  on  his  horse's  neck. 
"You  are  coming  back,"  he  said.  "You  are  mine  to 
do  with." 

"No,  I  am  free  from  you  now,"  she  answered  posi- 
tively, "as  free  as  any  girl  in  England." 

The  dark  man  sprang  down  to  the  road,  riding- 
crop  caught  in  his  hand.  "In  England  a  ward  be- 
longs to  her  guardian,"  he  declared,  walking  across 
the  greensward  toward  her.  "You  are  very  ignorant 
of  the  laws." 

She  did  not  budge  before  him.  "Happily  I'm  not 
your  ward,  my  lord,"  she  said,  and  held  up  her  hand 
to  stay  him.  "I'm  not  the  Lady  Pamela  Vauclain ; 
she  ran  away  to  marry  Mr.  Charles  Tree;  I'm  Sally 
Temple,  actress  at  Drury  Lane." 


THE  ENCOUNTER  AT  THE  INN      157 

Romsey  stopped,  caught  in  a  sea  of  surprise.  His 
black  eyes  stared,  and  his  brows  worked  up  and  down. 
"How's  that?"  he  demanded.  "Not  my  cousin,  not 
Pamela?" 

"Not  at  all,  my  lord;  I  played  her  part  because 
she  asked  me  to." 

He  stared,  while  the  flushes  ebbed  and  flowed  in 
her  defiant  face.  In  the  silence  that  followed  his 
hand  clutched  his  riding-crop  tighter  and  his  eyes 
grew  more  and  more  like  steel  points.  As  for  Sally, 
she  was  the  very  picture  of  rebellious  beauty,  de- 
sirable of  all  men. 

"Very  good,"  he  said  in  a  more  controlled  tone, 
"whether  you  are  Pam  or  a  girl  of  the  London  streets, 
I  will  have  you.  You  shall  be  my  wife.  The  parson 
is  waiting  at  Cumnor  to  marry  us,  and  it  makes  no 
difference  what  your  name  may  be.  Come,"  and  he 
stepped  forward  to  lay  his  hand  on  her  arm. 

"Never !"  she  cried,  falling  back  before  him.  "You 
wouldn't  dare  do  such  a  thing !" 

"I'd  dare  do  anything !"  he  retorted.  "You'd  best 
give  in  to  me." 

A  big  fellow  who  stood  in  the  entrance  to  the  court 
watching  them  stepped  out,  and  came  up  to  Sally. 
His  face  was  quiet,  but  his  blue  eyes  had  a  very  de- 
termined look.  "Keep  your  hands  from  her,"  he 
said.  "She  be  free,  and  there's  an  end  of  it." 

"Get  away,"  snarled  Romsey,  "this  is  none  of  your 
concern." 


158    THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

"Aye,  but  it  be  though,"  said  Jellett. 

Romsey  gave  him  a  look  fit  to  wither  .most  men, 
black  and  furious.  "You  fool,"  he  snapped,  "I'm 
the  Marquis  of  Romsey ;  mind  your  manners." 

"I  don't  care  if  you  be  the  King,"  said  Jellett, 
"the  lady  says  she'll  have  naught  to  do  with  you." 

"And  I  say  get  away !"  roared  Romsey,  and  he 
brought  the  riding-crop  down  across  Jellett's  shoul- 
der. 

The  other  man's  hands  caught  the  crop,  wrenched  it 
away,  and  broke  it  over  his  knee.  "I  don't  want  to 
harm  you,"  he  said,  "for  I  be  the  Byberry  Boy,  and  a 
fighter  by  trade." 

"Be  the  Devil,"  snapped  Romsey,  "but  stand  away 
from  here!"  He  turned  to  Sally,  and  thrust  out  his 
arms  to  catch  her. 

Jellett's  great  first  caught  him  on  the  chest  and 
hurled  him  backward.  "Have  you  no  care  for  a 
girl?"  Jellett  cried.  "Then  I'll  keep  her  safe  from 
you!" 

Romsey  steadied  himself,  his  face  pale  with  raging. 
"By  God,  I  will  deal  with  you !"  he  swore.  He  ran  in 
on  the  other,  and  his  right  arm,  like  a  flail,  struck 
Jellett's  jaw  and  cheek. 

Sally  had  sprung  to  safety,  frightened  at  the 
tempest  she  had  started.  Coachman,  postilion,  pas- 
sengers, inn-keeper,  pot-boy,  barmaid,  three  gentle- 
men drawn  from  their  parlor  by  the  noise,  all  looked 
on  amazed  at  sight  of  the  Marquis  of  Romsey  fight- 


THE  ENCOUNTER  AT  THE  INN      159 

ing  a  pugilist  with  his  bare  fists.  "He  has  grit," 
muttered  Sir  John.  "Damme,  if  the  beast  hasn't  got 
grit!" 

Romsey  needed  grit,  for  he  had  neither  the  weight 
nor  the  skill  of  Tom  Jellett.  And  Jellett  soon  saw 
that  his  enemy  had  courage  of  a  far  different  order 
than  that  of  most  of  the  fighters  by  trade.  His 
enemy  meant  to  finish  him  forthwith,  and  went  at 
it  hammer  and  tongs. 

Blood  in  his  eye,  his  face  set  like  a  vise,  Romsey 
stood  to  his  man,  and  battered  his  fists  against  that 
wall  of  sinew.  His  first  blow  left  a  red  streak  on 
Jellett's  cheek,  and  his  third  caught  a  corner  of  the 
man's  mouth.  After  that  knuckles  met  wrist  or  fore- 
arm till  knuckles  bled  and  stained  whatever  they  hit. 

Tom  Jellett  was  slow  to  fight,  but  this  was  no 
mincing  matter,  he  soon  perceived.  The  man  was 
dangerous,  and  could  not  be  warded  off  continually. 
Evidently  he  meant  to  knock  Jellett  out,  and  one 
of  those  ramrod  blows,  caught  properly  on  the  chin, 
would  do  the  business.  By  a  sudden  feint  and  a  quick 
uppercut  with  his  long  arm  Romsey  reached  his  man's 
ear  and  set  it  painfully  buzzing;  and  thereupon  Jel- 
lett waded  into  the  work  that  lay  before  him. 

"By  God,  but  it's  a  real  mill!"  Sir  John  muttered 
to  Verney,  where  they  stood  back  by  the  inn  wall. 
"The  Marquis  hits  the  harder!" 

"Watch  the  other  beggar  now,"  Verney  answered. 
"What  a  neck  and  shoulders !" 


160     THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

Jellett's  tight  jacket  was  burst  as  if  it  had  been 
paper,  and  his  great  muscled  arms  showed  through 
the  rents.  His  head  was  set  very  firmly  on  his  shoul- 
ders, and  now  he  lowered  it  to  protect  his  jaw.  His 
feet  had  been  planted  firm  and  wide  apart,  but  he 
shifted  his  footing  quickly  and  began  to  spring 
back  and  forth,  while  his  whole  body  moved  with  a 
supple  elasticity.  Of  this  Romsey  had  little;  he 
sprang  when  he  had  the  chance,  jerked  this  way  or 
that  as  he  had  need  to  dodge,  but  kept  perpetually 
going,  stinging  like  a  wasp  that  darts  continually  in 
and  out.  He  was  the  fighting  spirit  incarnate,  his 
eyes  wide  with  passion. 

Jellett's  left  arm  was  poised,  his  right  a  bulwark 
across  chest  and  chin,  and  his  blue  eyes  quick  and 
wary.  His  left  hand  struck  Romsey's  cheek,  and 
jabbed  at  his  jaw;  the  blood  came  running  and  was 
smeared  over  his  face.  The  Marquis  snarled  like  a 
hurt  wolf-hound,  and  flung  himself  on  Jellett  as  if 
to  drag  down  his  guard  and  find  his  throat,  but  the 
pugilist  stood  him  off  and  tore  his  own  arms  free, 
and  hit  Romsey  over  one  eye  and  sent  him  staggering 
back.  "Enough  ?"  Jellett  cried  in  question ;  but  the 
dark  man  only  spat  the  blood  from  his  cut  lip  and 
came  back  at  him  with  both  fists,  totally  disregarding 
the  shielding  of  his  head. 

Even  science  has  its  loopholes,  and  Romsey  reached 
his  enemy's  face  with  a  blow  that  shook  Jellett's 
poise.  Another  crash  of  those  bruised  and  bleeding 


THE  ENCOUNTER  AT  THE  INN      161 

knuckles  ripped  the  skin  from  Jellett's  jaw.  The 
prize-fighter  drew  back  his  head,  then  lunged  it  for- 
ward, and  body,  shoulders  and  arms  took  up  the 
battle  and  worked  together  as  they  had  not  yet 
worked.  Crash  went  a  hook  from  the  left  fist,  crash 
came  another  on  the  same  tender  spot.  Romsey  gave 
way,  caught  his  balance,  flung  out  his  arm.  Crash 
came  Jellett's  left  fist  on  his  mouth,  and  then  the  right, 
that  had  waited  the  crucial  point,  sped  to  Romsey's 
chin,  and  caught  it  fairly.  The  Marquis  spun  side- 
ways and  fell  on  the  grass,  his  arms  flung  out 
across  it. 

Jellett  stood  above  him,  the  wild,  fighting  look 
fading  from  his  face,  and  its  usual  calm  returning. 
He  was  not  a  pretty  sight,  jaw  and  cheeks  and  fore- 
head cut  and  bloody,  hands  red,  and  his  jacket  split 
in  tatters,  but  he  was  a  fine  figure  of  triumphant 
bone  and  sinew,  and  his  audience  could  at  least  appre- 
ciate that. 

As  for  Romsey — he  lay  as  if  broken  and  discarded 
on  the  green  turf,  one  eye  blackened,  and  his  face 
streaked  and  patched  with  blood.  He  was  totally 
spent,  that  last  whirlwind  rush  of  the  prize-fighter 
had  battered  all  resistance  out  of  him.  His  right 
arm  moved  as  if  to  ease  his  shoulder,  but  he  made  no 
movement  to  rise. 

"I  told  you  who  I  be,"  said  Jellett,  "but  you  would 
have  it  so.  There's  a  rare  lot  o'  fighting  spirit  in 
you."  He  stepped  back,  and  wiped  his  own  face  and 


162     THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

hands  with  a  torn  sleeve  of  his  jacket.  Then  he 
turned  to  look  at  Sally,  who  stood  by  the  coach-door. 
"There  be  no  real  harm  done.  It  be  only  cuts  and 
bruises  and  a  little  blood,"  he  said  reassuringly. 

In  the  meantime  the  inn-keeper  and  the  pot-boy 
drew  a  little  nearer,  peering  curiously  at  the  man  on 
the  grass.  Romsey  moved  as  if  he  meant  to  sit  up- 
"Fetch  hot  water  for  his  lordship,"  the  inn-keeper 
ordered  the  boy,  and  the  lad  scurried  away. 

The  coachman  reluctantly  turned  back  to  his  busi- 
ness. "Time  we  were  off,"  he  proclaimed.  The  guard 
set  horn  to  lips  and  blew  a  fanfare,  the  postilion 
leaped  to  his  saddle.  Sally  opened  the  coach-door 
and  stepped  in,  and  Jellett,  running  across  the  grass, 
mounted  after  her.  "I  mean  to  see  you  safe  now," 
he  declared,  and  pushed  past  the  other  two  passen- 
gers, who  sat  silent,  still  amazed  at  the  strange  scene 
they  had  witnessed. 

The  horses  swung  out  into  the  road  under  the 
driver's  whip.  Sally  looked  through  the  window  and 
saw  Romsey  get  to  his  feet.  She  had  a  glimpse  of 
him  turning  to  look  at  her,  she  caught  the  baffled 
gleam  in  his  wild  eyes — she  quivered  suddenly  and  sat 
back  in  her  corner.  "Oh,  what  a  terrible  man!"  she 
murmured,  and  shut  her  eyes  to  block  out  the  picture. 

"Aye,  and  a  terrible  fighter,  too  !"  said  Jellett,  who 
had  overheard. 

"Don't  speak  of  him  again!"  she  commanded. 
"I'm  done  with  him  at  last !" 


PART  II 


xn 

THE  WIND  IN   PUMP  LANK 

IT  was  a  winter  night  in  Pump  Lane.  The  street 
was  clogged  with  snow  that  had  been  trampled  into 
slush  where  men  walked,  but  that  still  showed  a  white 
crust  under  windows  and  in  unused  places.  The 
wind  was  busy,  whistling  and  singing,  and  making 
sport  of  whatever  came  in  its  way.  The  air  was  cold, 
of  that  quality  that  pries  between  the  joints,  and 
bids  noses  and  ears  beg  for  mercy.  Altogether  it 
was  a  much  pleasanter  night  on  which  to  be  at  home 
than  abroad,  and  Pump  Lane  people  showed  their 
wisdom.  The  wind  looked  in  at  one  window  after 
another,  and  by  candlelight  saw  snug,  domestic  pic- 
tures. 

Mistress  Kilgore  was  stitching  a  new  bodice,  and 
lecturing  her  husband.  The  wind  had  seen  that  pic- 
ture many  times  before,  and  rattling  the  casement 
to  warn  the  couple  that  he  was  about,  crossed  the 
Lane  to  a  window  on  the  opposite  side.  Here  was 
something  for  him  to  tarry  over. 

The  small,  raftered  room  was  lighted  by  a  pair  of 

candles  that  stood  on  a  center-table.     A  young  man 

165 


166     THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

sat  with  his  elbows  on  the  board,  his  chin  propped  in 
his  hands.  On  the  far  side  of  the  table  a  girl,  clad 
in  a  warm-looking  brown  dress,  lounged  in  a  chair. 
In  the  shadowy  background  a  gray-haired  woman 
was  dozing,  her  hands  folded  in  her  lap. 

"Tom  comes  down  the  Lane,"  the  girl  was  saying, 
"and  no  more  than  steps  into  the  Court,  when  the 
boys  open  fire.  One  snowball  knocked  off  his  hat,  and 
another  spattered  his  nose.  Then  they  saw  who  it 
was,  and  took  to  their  heels  ; — all  but  little  lame  Walt 
Butcher.  He  fell  on  his  knees,  and  cried,  'Oh,  Mr. 
Jellett,  I  didn't  mean  to  do  it!'  But  Tom  was  only 
laughing.  'Why,  those  were  love-taps,'  he  said.  'The 
Bombardier  hit  harder.  Here,  my  lad,  I'll  show  you 
how  to  throw;'  and  he  rolled  up  a  snowball,  and 
threw  it  so  it  knocked  the  bear  on  the  old  inn's  sign 
half  off.  Walt  told  me  about  it,  his  eyes  as  big  as 
platters." 

"He's  almighty  strong,"  said  Gilbert,  "and  just  as 
good-natured." 

"I'm  glad  you  like  him,"  said  Sally ;  "because  I 
like  him  too." 

"I  liked  him  first  for  bringing  you  home  from 
Surrey  last  summer." 

"Yes,  he  was  very  kind  then,"  agreed  Sally.  Her 
face  grew  reminiscent.  "I  sometimes  wonder  what 
you  would  have  thought  of  that  strange  man, 
Gilly.  I  can  picture  you  two  measuring  each 
other." 


THE  WIND  IN  PUMP  LANE          167 

"The  Marquis  wouldn't  waste  much  time  on  the 
likes  of  me,"  suggested  Gilbert. 

"Maybe  not.  But  one  never  could  tell  just  what 
he  would  do — he  wasn't  like  our  town-bred  gentle- 
men." 

"What's  the  difference?" 

"Something; — I  can't  tell.  It  may  be  just  a 
woman's  instinct  that  jumps  at  such  things." 

"Instinct  ought  to  say  he'd  make  anybody  near 
him  wretched,"  asserted  Gilbert  very  positively. 

"Oh,  yes,"  agreed  Sally,  readily;  "he'd  surely  do 
that." 

There  came  a  rapping  at  the  street  door,  and  Sally 
went  and  opened  it.  The  wind  burst  in,  and  with  it 
a  big,  broad-shouldered  man.  "Good-evening,  Sally. 
Will  you  give  me  shelter?"  he  inquired. 

"If  you  be  quick,  Tom."  She  pushed  the  door  shut 
behind  him. 

The  big  man  threw  his  cloak  and  hat  on  a  settle, 
and  walked  into  the  living-room.  He  nodded  fa- 
miliarly to  Gilbert,  and  smiled  at  Mrs.  Stanes,  who 
had  opened  her  eyes  and  sat  up.  That  hard-working 
woman  forthwith  took  his  arrival  as  an  opportunity 
to  go  upstairs  to  bed. 

The  Byberry  Boy  stood  with  his  hands  behind  his 
back,  and  it  seemed  as  if  his  shadow  covered  almost 
an  entire  wall  of  the  room. 

"How  go  things,  Gilly?"  said  he.  "It  be  bad 
weather  for  you  to  get  to  work." 


168     THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

"So  it  is,  Tom,"  said  the  lame  youth.  "But  I  win 
through  the  day  thinking  of  the  evening,  for  now  it's 
winter,  Sally's  more  at  home." 

"And  that's  a  good  thing  to  think  of,"  agreed 
Jellett,  looking  at  the  girl,  who  had  taken  her  former 
seat  on  the  other  side  of  the  table. 

"Nonsense!"  declared  Sally.  "Gilly's  always  got 
his  books,  whether  I'm  here  or  not." 

"So  he  has,"  assented  Jellett.  "He  be  lucky  any 
way  you  take  it.  I  wish  I  was  a  scholar.  Won't 
you  read  us  more  about  that  shipwrecked  fellow, 
Robinson  Crusoe?" 

After  a  proper  urging  Gilbert  got  the  book  and 
read  aloud,  transporting  the  three  to  that  magic  isle 
of  the  Pacific.  The  wind,  which  had  doubtless  heard 
the  tale  before,  rattled  the  casement,  and  went  on 
about  his  business. 

In  Pump  Court,  at  the  end  of  the  Lane,  stood  a 
smithy,  with  a  harness-shop  attached.  The  wind, 
whistling  down  the  great  chimney,  saw  an  old 
wrinkled  man  sitting  close  to  the  fire,  binding  a 
saddle.  A  knock  rang  on  the  door,  and  the  harness- 
maker  got  up  and  opened  it  a  crack.  A  tall  man 
stood  outside,  muffled  up  to  the  ears,  and  as  the  door 
opened  he  thrust  himself  in,  bringing  snow  on  his 
heavy  boots. 

"Are  you  the  smith?"  the  new  arrival  demanded, 
and  he  glanced  appraisingly  about  the  shadowy  fire- 
lighted  place. 


THE  WIND  IN  PUMP  LANE          169 

"Yes,"  answered  the  old  man,  "Oliver  Pipe,  at 
jour  service." 

"Go  back  to  your  stool,  where  it's  warm,"  said  the 
other.  "Bur-r-r,  but  this  London  is  a  dank  hole." 
He  moved  over  to  the  hearth,  and  stretched  out  his 
hands  above  the  blazing  wood. 

"You  might  be  a  foreigner?"  queried  Pipe,  humor- 
ing his  visitor  by  sitting  down  on  the  stool. 

The  other  paid  no  heed  to  the  question,  but  ap- 
peared to  be  stating  his  thoughts  aloud.  "You  all 
live  close  enough  together  here,"  said  he,  his  back 
to  the  smith,  "for  warmth  and  company,  most  like." 

"Oh  aye,  we  rub  shoulders  close  in  the  Court  and 
Lane,  as  neighborly  as  dogs  in  a  kennel." 

The  other,  his  hands  now  somewhat  warmed,  turned 
about,  and  by  the  flickering  light  the  smith  saw  a 
spare,  clean-shaven  face,  the  line  of  a  scar  cutting 
across  the  upper  lip,  and  a  pair  of  deep  black  eyes. 
"You  live  and  work  alone  here,  Mr.  Pipe?"  the  man 
asked. 

The  smith,  his  curiosity  rising  with  each  interro- 
gation, scratched  his  chin  with  a  forefinger.  "I  have 
a  boy  come  in  to  tend  the  bellows,  and  help  out." 

"You  should  have  a  man.  Business  would  be 
brisker." 

"It  might,"  said  the  other,  dubiously,  "but  there  be 
no  man  would  take  what  I  could  give." 

"Hark  you  now,"  said  his  visitor,  "I'm  strong,  and 
quick  at  learning.  I'm  a  stranger  in  London,  with  a 


170    THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

little  money.  I'll  buy  a  share  in  your  business,  you 
to  give  me  a  place  and  shelter  here." 

Pipe's  face  showed  his  astonishment.  "Why,  my 
good  man — "  he  began. 

But  the  other  interrupted.  "You  don't  know  me; 
and  I  might  be  Satan  himself.  Very  good ;  but  you 
could  put  up  with  the  devil  for  a  month,  if  properly 
paid  for  it,  eh?  Sell  me  half  your  trade  at  forty 
shillings  a  month,  and  if  all's  well  at  the  month's  end 
we  can  settle  for  the  next." 

The  smith  stared,  and  scratched  his  chin,  and  con- 
sidered. The  offer  was  very  good,  and  there  was  no 
doubt  but  that  he  needed  a  young  man  at  the  anvil. 
He  cast  a  reflective  eye  over  the  stranger.  The  man 
stood  tall  and  firm ;  he  looked  as  if  he  had  the  making 
of  a  good  smith  in  him. 

"Is  it  agreed,  Mr.  Pipe?"  the  man  pressed  him. 

"Aye,  for  a  month,"  Pipe  answered  cautiously. 

"Then  here's  half  the  sum  in  advance,  as  earnest." 
The  man  took  a  purse  from  his  inner  coat  pocket,  and 
counted  out  some  coins.  He  tendered  these  to  the 
smith,  who  counted  them  over,  and  dropped  them  into 
a  leather  pouch  that  hung  at  his  belt.  Then  the 
other,  who  was  now  thoroughly  warmed,  took  off  his 
hat  and  heavy  outer  coat,  and  laid  them  on  a  bench. 
He  was  clad  in  a  suit  of  coarse  brown  weave,  such 
as  might  be  had  at  any  clothing-shop  in  Cheapside. 

"What  may  be  your  name?"  asked  Pipe. 

"Conrad  Grote,"  said  the  other. 


THE  WIND  IN  PUMP  LANE          171 

The  smith  chuckled.  "There  be  no  accounting  for 
tastes,  friend  Grote,"  he  remarked,  "but  you  do  seem 
a  strange  man — with  money  in  your  purse — and 
turning  smith." 

"I  haven't  much  of  it  in  my  purse,"  said  Grote, 
"and  need  to  put  more  there.  I  know  what  I'm 
about." 

"No  doubt,  no  doubt,"  agreed  Pipe  readily.  "You 
don't  look  like  a  fool." 

The  smith  showed  his  new  assistant  up  to  a  cubby- 
hole under  the  roof,  and  bade  him  make  it  his  home. 
The  cold  came  in  through  the  cracks,  and  the  bed 
was  only  a  pallet  of  straw.  Grote  shivered  a  little  as 
he  looked  through  his  tiny  window  at  the  mixture  of 
chimney-pots  and  jutting  gables.  No  wonder  the 
houses  huddled  close  together  in  such  a  cold  place  as 
this. 

Almost  all  of  the  Court  and  Lane  were  asleep  by 
now,  and  the  wind  found  little  to  entertain  him.  His 
singing  was  for  his  own  ears  until  he  went  back  to 
the  house  opposite  Mistress  Kilgore's.  There  Gil- 
bert, in  his  bedroom  at  the  rear,  heard  him,  and 
stuffed  an  old  hat  tighter  in  a  broken  window-pane. 
The  clerk  had  finished  his  reading  and  left  the  other 
two,  so  that  he  might  be  fresh  for  his  work  on  the 
morrow. 

Downstairs  the  Byberry  Boy  was  looking  earnestly 
at  Sally  Temple.  "There  be  no  fights  around  here, 
and  work  in  the  butcher's  shop  is  overdull,"  said  he. 


172     THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

"You  know  why  I  came  to  London  town,  Sally.  I'm 
staying  just  for  you.  I'd  make  a  match  to  fight  the 
Yorkshire  Giant  if  so  be  it  that  would  please  you." 

"It  wouldn't  please  me  so  very  much,"  she  an- 
swered, "to  have  your  eyes  blacked,  or  your  teeth 
knocked  out." 

"What  would,  then?"  he  demanded. 

She  put  her  hands  back  of  her  head,  and  sighed. 
"You're  a  right  good  man,  Tom ;  but  you  must  wait 
a  little." 

"Until  some  better  man  comes  along?" 

"No,  not  that.  But  until  I  know  myself  surer, 
Tom;  until  I  feel  that  it  couldn't  be  any  other  man 
but  you." 

"It's  hard,  Sally,"  said  the  young  man,  "to  sit  and 
wait  for  such  a  matter  as  that." 

"Aren't  you  good  at  waiting?"  she  asked,  her  eyes 
studying  his  broad,  candid  face. 

"When  I  fought  the  Bombardier  I  waited  so  long 
my  friends  were  for  going  home.  I  let  him  do  the 
leading  till  he  thought  I  was  no  better  than  a  bag  o' 
meal.  He  hit  out  regardless,  and  I  got  him — oh  yes, 
I  got  him,  Sally."  He  looked  fondly  at  his  right 
fist  and  forearm,  which  had  instinctively  stiffened  as 
for  battle. 

Sally  regarded  him  in  no  unfriendly  light.  Here 
was  a  real  man,  no  fashionable  coxcomb,  and  if  he 
had  no  greater  supply  of  brains  than  were  enough  to 
make  him  a  champion  of  the  prize-ring,  he  had  at 


THE  WIND  IN  PUMP  LANE          173 

least  two  stout  arms  and  hands  that  could  safely 
shield  a  woman. 

"You're  prodigious  strong,  Tom,"  she  admitted. 
"There's  little  doubt  of  that.  I  mind  when  first  I 
saw  you  fight  at  Chantrey." 

"So  I  be,  Sally,  so  I  be.  But  when  it  conies  to  a 
girl  I'm  gentle  as  a  kitten." 

"Little  Walt  Butcher  thinks  there's  no  one  like 
you ;  and  a  boy  makes  a  good  judge." 

Now  it  was  Tom's  turn  to  blush.  "Take  little 
Walt's  judgment  then,"  he  pleaded.  "I'm  no  great 
hand  at  words,  but  you  can  tell  my  feelings,  Sally. 
They  be  as  plain  as  daylight." 

The  girl,  however,  had  not  yet  decided,  for  she 
could  still  view  him  critically,  and  that  did  not  suf- 
fice her.  "Wait,"  she  said.  "That's  the  only  way 
for  me,  Tom." 

In  his  patient  and  yet  resolute  face  she  thought 
she  caught  a  glimpse  of  how  he  must  have  looked  as 
he  waited  for  the  Bombardier  in  his  great  battle. 
He  smiled  as  he  bade  her  good-night,  and  picked  up 
his  cloak  and  hat.  She  opened  the  door  enough  for 
him  to  pass  out,  and  then  quickly  shut  it,  and  caught 
the  latch  in  place. 

She  carried  a  candle  up  to  her  tiny  room  under  the 
eaves.  This  place,  garret  as  it  was,  and  meagerly 
furnished,  was  dearer  than  ever  to  her  after  her 
grand  apartments  at  Cumnor  Castle.  She  was  glad 
to  know  that  Gilbert  and  Kate  were  sleeping  near  at 


174    THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

hand,  and  that  when  she  woke  in  the  morning  she 
would  look  out  on  familiar  roofs  and  houses. 

Although  she  had  not  stayed  a  month  at  Cumnor 
Sally  had  received  word  from  Sir  John  Gorham  that 
by  her  aid  Lady  Pamela  Tree  had  secured  possession 
of  the  greater  part  of  her  estates,  and  that  the  Mar- 
quis had  as  yet  given  no  signs  of  his  displeasure.  Sir 
John  had  also  sent  her  the  money  he  had  promised 
if  she  would  play  that  part,  and  this,  together  with 
the  necklet  of  rich  pearls,  the  ruby  ring,  and  the 
girdle  set  with  amethysts,  had  been  put  away  as  a 
nest-egg  against  hard  times.  Sally  was  a  very  popu- 
lar actress,  but  Drury  Lane  Theatre  was  often  closed 
in  winter,  and  it  was  well  for  an  actress  to  have  some- 
thing besides  her  salary  there. 

To-night  she  brushed  her  hair  slowly,  in  spite  of 
the  cold.  Was  not  Tom  Jellett  the  man  for  her  to 
marry?  she  wondered.  He  had  brought  her  all  the 
way  from  the  village  of  Chantrey  up  to  London,  and 
had  proved  as  thoughtful  of  her  as  a  mother  of  a 
child.  Since  then  he  had  stayed  near  the  Lane,  and 
she  knew  from  his  every  word  and  action  that  the 
young  giant  rang  true. 

Thinking  of  Tom  Jellett  brought  to  her  mind  in 
contrast  the  three  gentlemen  who  had  sought  her 
earlier.  Though  she  had  liked  some  qualities  in  each 
of  them  she  had  sent  each  on  his  way  when  each  had 
come  to  urge  his  suit  in  London.  Any  one  of  the 
three  could  offer  her  a  marriage  more  brilliant  than  a 


THE  WIND  IN  PUMP  LANE          175 

Pump  Lane  girl,  though  she  were  a  popular  actress, 
should  dare  to  dream  of;  but  Sally  was  never  caught 
by  gilt  or  tinsel,  save  when  she  found  it  on  the  stage. 
She  had  dreams  of  a  man  who  should  possess  all  she 
had  found  to  her  liking  in  others,  and  something  more 
besides ;  and  she  would  not  let  her  dreams  go.  Just 
what  that  something  more  might  be  she  did  not  know ; 
that  was  for  the  man  to  find  out,  she  could  not  tell 
him.  Tom  Jellett  had  much ;  strength  and  truth  and 
devotion  were  his,  but  not  yet  the  power  to  compel 
her  surrender. 

As  she  shook  out  her  long,  lovely  hair  she  wondered 
if  she  were  too  stubborn  and  captious.  "People  must 
give  as  well  as  receive,"  she  said  to  herself.  But  she 
frowned  over  the  thought  as  she  got  in  bed,  for  she 
knew  that  it  was  far  easier  to  advise  than  to  act  on 
the  wisest  counsel. 

Soon  she  was  asleep,  and  the  wind,  leaping  and 
somersaulting  by  himself,  sped  away  from  that 
poor  quarter  of  London  to  another  section,  where  he 
could  still  find  men  and  women  performing  antics  for 
his  benefit. 


xin 

OLIVER   PIPE'S  NEW  SMITH 

WINTER  relented  somewhat  after  a  few  days, 
and  one  morning  allowed  the  sun  a  brief  chance 
at  the  Lane  and  Court.  Oliver  Pipe,  whose  face  was 
like  a  rosy  wrinkled  apple,  bade  his  assistant  open  the 
smithy  door.  It  was  likely  horses  would  have  to  be 
shod  such  weather,  and  harness  mended  after  the 
storm,  and  the  ring  of  the  hammer  on  anvil  and  the 
sight  of  the  smith  might  catch  customers'  ears  and 
eyes. 

Pipe  was  pleased  with  his  partner.  The  old  man 
had  cut  a  leather  apron  for  him  the  morning  after 
the  stranger's  arrival,  and  when  Grote  put  it  on  he 
looked  every  inch  the  smith.  He  was  quick  to  learn 
how  to  handle  the  tools,  and  he  struck  a  hearty  blow. 
Pipe  felt  that  he  had  appraised  the  applicant  cor- 
rectly, and  that  the  result  of  their  bargain  would  all 
be  to  the  credit  side  of  the  balance.  They  should 
get  on  famously  to  his  thinking,  the  more  so  as  Pipe 
was  very  fond  of  talking,  and  the  apprentice  had  so 
far  shown  himself  much  more  inclined  to  listen  than 

to  preach. 

1T6 


OLIVER  PIPE'S  NEW  SMITH         177 

Grote  opened  the  street  door  as  he  was  bade,  and 
stood  there  a  minute,  hands  on  his  hips,  breathing  in 
the  fresh  air.  Pipe  joined  him  for  the  same  purpose. 
The  Court  was  partly  aflood  with  the  thaw.  "Good 
weather  for  shoemakers,"  observed  the  smith,  nod- 
ding toward  some  women,  who,  with  skirts  held  well 
above  their  ankles,  were  paddling  across  the  Court 
in  the  direction  of  the  Market. 

"No  doubt,"  assented  Grote. 

A  young  woman  came  out  of  the  Lane,  and  in  her 
turn  started  to  cross  the  Court.  She  was  stoutly 
shod,  and  her  lifted  skirts  showed  a  pair  of  trim 
ankles.  A  knitted  woolen  scarf  hid  her  hair,  and  was 
wound  about  her  throat,  with  its  ends  flung  back  over 
her  shoulders,  and  on  her  arm  she  carried  a  market- 
basket. 

Pipe  glanced  at  his  apprentice.  "Aye,  Oliver," 
said  he,  with  a  dry  chuckle,  "look  your  fill,  for  she 
be  worth  a  man's  looking.  There's  a  woman  would 
tempt  Saint  Anthony  himself.  If  all  the  tales  be 
true  a  dozen  gentlemen  have  run  their  fine  legs  off 
after  her,  and  got  only  a  toss  of  her  head  for  their 
pains.  Now  if  I  were  a  little  younger!  Saw  you 
ever  such  a  merry  face,  with  a  pretty  figure  to  match  ? 
Speak  up,  man,  if  you  ben't  a  stone." 

"Who  is  she?"  asked  Grote. 

"Sally  Temple,  to  be  sure;  and  she's  known  at 
t'other  end  of  town  as  well  as  this.  She's  looking 


178     THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

over  here.  Good-morning  to  you,  Sally."  The  smith 
waved  his  hand. 

The  girl  called  back,  "Good-day  to  you,  Mr.  Pipe. 
The  Court's  afloat." 

"So  it  be,"  the  smith  chuckled;  "but  it's  too  cold 
for  barefoot  wading." 

The  girl  nodded,  casting  a  glance  at  the  man  who 
stood  beside  Pipe.  She  saw  a  tall  fellow,  whose 
leather  apron  hung  from  his  neck  to  his  knees.  He 
was  clean-shaven,  with  black  hair  and  eyes.  But  as 
he  was  looking  directly  at  her,  she  turned  her  head 
and  hurried  past. 

"Well,"  said  Pipe,  "is  she  pretty  or  no?" 

Grote  was  still  looking  after  the  young  woman,  as 
she  picked  her  way  up  the  Court. 

"Your  tongue  don't  keep  pace  with  your  eyes, 
Conrad,"  snapped  Pipe.  "If  I  was  your  age — " 

"Yes,  she  is  all  you  say,"  assented  Grote,  as  if 
under  compulsion. 

"You  talk  like  a  block  of  wood,"  complained  the 
smith.  "When  most  young  men  see  Sally  for  the  first 
time  they  run  out  of  words  to  talk  about  her." 

"Well,  so  have  I,"  said  Grote,  smiling.  "What 
more  do  you  want?" 

The  smith  cast  a  quizzing  glance  at  his  companion. 
The  man  puzzled  him  in  a  number  of  ways.  When 
he  chose  to  talk  his  voice  was  somewhat  different 
from  that  of  most  townsfolk,  lacking  their  blur,  and 
being  more  clear  and  low.  Now  and  again  his  as- 


OLIVER  PIPE'S  NEW  SMITH          179 

sistant's  dark  eyes  would  flash  unexpectedly,  and  in 
so  doing  would  disconcert  the  smith,  who  could  see 
no  cause  for  such  an  exhibition  in  the  day's  routine. 
Pipe  would  look  up  from  his  work  sometimes,  and  find 
Grote  brooding  over  the  anvil  or  staring  at  the  fire. 
"Strange  eyes,"  thought  the  smith.  "There's  a  caged 
look  about  them — most  unusual." 

For  the  first  few  days  Pipe  did  almost  all  the  talk- 
ing that  passed  between  the  two.  Grote  and  he  had 
their  simple  meals  together,  labored  in  the  smithy,  and 
sat  for  a  short  time  before  the  fire  at  night.  Then 
Grote  began  to  ask  abrupt  questions.  He  dug  facts 
out  of  Pipe,  facts  about  his  own  life  and  the  lives  of 
his  neighbors,  how  they  made  their  daily  bread,  who 
was  their  landlord,  and  such  like.  Once  he  had  Pipe 
started  on  an  interesting  trail  the  smith  would  dis- 
course volubly.  Grote  would  listen  to  him,  his  face 
very  intent,  his  fingers  occasionally  stroking  his 
cheek.  The  smith  gave  him  credit  at  least  for  being 
a  listener  in  a  thousand. 

From  time  to  time  men  and  women  of  the  neighbor- 
hood dropped  in  at  the  smithy  or  the  shop  on  busi- 
ness. The  apprentice  served  them  ably,  and  if  they 
felt  inclined  to  chat — as  most  of  them  did — listened 
readily  to  all  they  had  to  say.  But  when,  in  their 
turn,  they  tried  to  learn  his  views,  Grote  grew  silent. 
They  left  the  smithy,  and  spread  the  news  that  old 
Oliver  Pipe  had  a  singular  apprentice,  a  man  who 
had  dropped  in  from  somewhere  overnight,  and  who 


180     THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

would  not  tell  a  thing  about  himself.  The  girls  of 
the  quarter  soon  found  excuses  for  errands.  Grote 
made  a  good  figure  in  his  leather  apron,  but  when  it 
came  to  bandying  words  with  them  they  found  that 
he  was  as  useless  as  the  wooden  bear  above  the  tavern 
door.  It  seemed  clear  that  the  swains  of  the  Court 
and  Lane  would  have  little  to  fear  from  this  tall, 
mysterious  stranger. 

Late  one  afternoon,  when  the  outdoor  world  had 
frozen  up  again,  a  thin,  peaked-face  young  fellow 
entered  the  smithy,  walking  with  a  crutch.  Pipe 
was  out  at  the  time,  but  Grote  was  hammering  a 
red-hot  horseshoe.  The  cripple  sat  down  on  a  bench, 
and  watched  the  workman  finish  his  task.  When 
Grote  could  attend  to  him  the  other  handed  over  his 
crutch,  and  asked  if  the  smith  would  fix  a  new  iron 
ferrule  to  the  peg  at  the  bottom. 

Grote  applied  himself  to  this  work  while  the  cripple 
studied  him,  noting  each  detail  of  his  face  and  dress. 
Presently  the  observant  customer  asked,  "How  do  you 
like  this  place?" 

"Well  enough,"  said  Grote  shortly. 

"You  haven't  always  been  a  smith?"  There  was 
as  much  assertion  as  question  in  the  cripple's  tone. 

"No." 

"If  you  don't  mind  my  asking,  what  have  you  done 
before?" 

Grote  stopped  his  work,  and  took  a  good  look  at 
his  questioner.  He  found  unusual  intelligence  in  the 


OLIVER  PIPE'S  NEW  SMITH          181 

cripple's  face.     "A  number  of  things,"  he  answered 
more  readily,  "and,   like  the  common  run  of  men, 
more  ill  than  good  when  I  come  to  think  of  it." 
"You  call  that  the  lot  of  the  common  run?" 

"Don't  you?" 

The  cripple's  face  grew  speculative.  "I  think, 
whatever  we  do,  most  of  us  wish  to  help  more  than  to 
harm,"  he  answered. 

Grote  rested  his  foot  on  the  base  of  the  anvil,  lean- 
ing forward.  "Do  you  mean  in  Pump  Lane,"  he 
asked,  "or  in  all  the  world?" 

"I  only  know  the  world  hereabouts,  except  by  read- 
ing ;  but  I  think  it  true  everywhere — except  with  the 
nobles,  who  see  no  need  to  help,  and  find  more  sport 
in  harming." 

"You  do  well  to  leave  out  the  nobles,"  agreed 
Grote,  and  his  tone  was  ironical.  "They  fatten  on 
doing  harm.  You  speak  of  reading;  are  you  a 
scholar  ?" 

"I  have  a  little  learning.  I'm  clerk  by  day,  and 
reader  by  night  and  on  Sundays,"  said  the  cripple. 

"What's  your  name?"  asked  Grote. 

"Gilbert  Stanes." 

"And  you  are  a  thinker?"  mused  Grote.  "You 
read  and  think."  He  looked  at  Stanes  as  if  he  were 
regarding  a  most  unusual  creature. 

"You  see,"  said  Stanes,  "I'm  lame;"  as  if  that 
were  his  excuse. 

"Yes,  I  see."     Grote  picked  up  the  crutch,  and 


182     THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

began  to  bend  a  new  band  of  metal  about  the  peg. 
Presently  he  said,  "I  read  sometimes,  and  sometimes 
I  think." 

"You  do?"  said  Stanes,  eagerly.  "Then  you  must 
come  to  see  me,  and  talk  about  your  reading  and  your 
thinking." 

"But  I've  found  out  very  little,"  objected  Grote, 
"and  I  have  to  keep  discarding  what  I've  learned." 

"You  underrate  yourself,"  suggested  Stanes. 

The  smith  looked  up  from  the  crutch,  and  his  eyes 
gleamed,  as  Pipe  had  sometimes  seen  them.  "I've 
never  thought  so,"  he  said,  "nor  have  other  people." 
The  gleam  died  away,  and  his  lips  curled,  so  that  the 
scar  on  the  upper  one  was  twisted.  "No,  that's  not 
one  of  my  sins,  Master  Stanes,"  he  added. 

The  cripple  was  intensely  interested  by  this  time; 
Oliver  Pipe's  apprentice  was  a  rare  character.  But, 
though  he  tri^d  to  draw  Grote  out  further,  the  man 
would  not  talk.  He  finished  his  work,  and  handed 
Stanes  the  crutch,  pocketing  his  threepence.  Only 
when  Stanes  said,  "You  will  come  to  see  me  some 
night?"  he  nodded  his  head  in  assent. 

His  assistant's  singular  attitude  in  viewing  all  his 
neighbors  from  a  distance  furnished  considerable 
surprise  to  Oliver  Pipe.  So  far  as  he  could  observe, 
the  man,  although  intelligent,  showed  no  desire  to  mix 
with  other  men  of  the  vicinity,  and  had  not  once,  to 
the  best  of  the  old  smith's  knowledge,  dropped  in  at. 
the  tap-room  of  the  Bear  and  Staff.  That  was 


OLIVER  PIPE'S  NEW  SMITH          183 

where  the  unattached  men — -and  some  of  the  others — 
were  wont  to  gather  of  a  winter's  evening,  but  Conrad 
Grote  seemed  to  prefer  to  sit  with  Pipe  in  the  smithy, 
and  listen  to  his  chatter.  After  a  few  weeks,  how- 
ever, Pipe  began  to  be  even  more  surprised  by  some 
of  G^ote's  questions  in  regard  to  their  neighbors. 
Apparently  he  had  discovered  facts  about  them  that 
the  smith,  who  had  lived  among  them  all  his  life,  had 
never  remarked,  and  had  drawn  conclusions  that 
would  never  have  occurred  to  Pipe.  The  latter  also 
found  that  his  assistant  had  bought  a  few  books  at  a 
shop  in  Cheapside,  and  was  reading  them  by  candle- 
light in  his  own  room.  That  the  man  should  be  able 
to  read  increased  the  smith's  curiosity  about  him,  but 
he  was  by  this  time  so  much  interested  in  Grote's 
company,  and  so  well  satisfied  with  his  workmanship, 
that  he  hesitated  to  seem  too  inquisitive  for  fear  of 
giving  offense. 

One  night  after  supper  Grote  took  his  hat  and 
cloak  from  his  peg  in  the  smithy,  and  with  a  brief, 
"I'm  going  to  make  a  visit,"  left  Pipe  to  his  own 
society.  Down  Pump  Lane  he  went  until  he  came 
to  the  small  house  opposite  Mistress  Kilgore's. 
Peering  close,  to  identify  the  place  from  the  descrip- 
tions he  had  gathered  of  it,  he  finally  rapped  on  the 
door  with  his  knuckles.  It  was  opened  by  a  gray- 
haired  woman.  "Does  Gilbert  Stanes  live  here?" 
inquired  Grote.  "Yes,"  said  the  woman.  "He's 
within.  Step  into  the  room  yon." 


Grote  walked  into  the  living-room,  where  Stanes 
sat  as  usual  by  the  table,  a  book  open  before  him. 
The  reader  looked  up,  and  seeing  who  his  visitor  was, 
smiled  with  pleasure.  "Good-evening,  Master  Grote." 
said  he,  and  bending  forward,  stretched  out  his  hand. 

The  other  took  it  in  a  firm  grip,  but  silently. 

"Throw  off  your  cloak,"  said  Gilbert.  "Mother, 
this  is  Master  Grote,  Oliver  Pipe's  new  smith." 

Kate  Stanes  regarded  the  man,  whose  dark  eyes 
seemed  as  quiet  as  her  own. 

Grote  stood  for  a  few  moments  while  Gilbert 
talked,  seeming  to  be  preoccupied  in  observing  every 
detail  of  the  room — the  low,  raftered  ceiling,  the 
stained  walls,  the  small  casements,  the  heavy  furnish- 
ings, the  rough,  uneven  flooring.  Finally  he  looked 
at  the  cripple,  as  if  to  say  that  he  could  attend  to 
him  now. 

"Sit  down,"  invited  Gilbert,  smiling.  "Have  you 
found  more  good  or  ill  in  the  world  since  we  last 
met?" 

Grote  shook  his  head.  "My  studies  of  the  world 
are  only  in  their  infancy  yet,"  said  he,  taking  a  chair 
near  the  clerk.  "I  thought  to  begin  my  search  after 
wisdom  here." 

"But  this  is  such  a  back-eddy,"  objected  Gilbert, 
lightly. 

"Who  knows  which  are  the  eddies,  and  which  the 
main  currents ;  and  who  knows  which  will  teach  one 
more  of  truth?" 


OLIVER  PIPE'S  NEW  SMITH          185 

Gilbert's  tongue  was  unleashed  by  that ;  and,  with 
his  head  propped  in  his  hands,  and  his  big  eyes  specu- 
lative, he  talked  of  what  he  had  seen  and  thought  in 
his  quiet  life.  It  was  the  meditation  of  a  sincere 
philosopher,  and  as  he  looked  at  Grote  from  time 
to  time  he  saw  that  the  other  man  comprehended 
him.  That  meant  a  great  deal  to  the  little  clerk, 
who  met  few  men  who  could  follow  his  thoughts 
rightly. 

Presently  there  was  a  light  step  on  the  stairs,  and 
some  one  came  into  the  room  back  of  Grote.  Gilbert 
looked  up.  "Sally,"  said  he,  "I've  a  most  interesting 
visitor  to-night.  It's  Master  Grote,  who  works  for 
Oliver  Pipe." 

Grote  stood  up,  and,  turning,  found  himself  facing 
a  girl  in  a  dark  blue  gown,  whose  hair  was  a  cloud 
of  soft  reddish-gold.  She  looked  at  him  with  consid- 
erable interest,  a  smile  in  her  eyes  and  on  her  lips. 
She  nodded  amiably  as  he  bowed  his  greeting. 

"I  saw  you  standing  with  old  Oliver  at  the  smithy 
door  a  week  or  so  ago,"  she  said,  good-humoredly. 

"I  remember,  you  were  on  your  way  to  market," 
he  answered. 

Then,  without  more  ado,  Sally  unfolded  a  bundle 
she  was  carrying  in  her  hand,  and,  sitting  down  by 
the  table,  began  to  baste  the  lining  in  a  skirt.  Gil- 
bert took  up  the  conversation  where  her  arrival  had 
interrupted  it,  and  Grote  appeared  to  be  focusing 
his  attention  on  what  the  clerk  said.  His  eyes,  how- 


186     THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

ever,  would  occasionally  stray  to  the  girl,  who  sat 
apparently  absorbed  in  her  sewing.  When  Gilbert 
noticed  this  he  smiled  to  himself,  used  as  he  was  to 
seeing  men's  eyes  drawn,  magnet-wise,  to  his  lovely 
young  aunt. 

Just  before  Grote  left  Sally  took  a  greater  interest 
in  him.  "Where  do  you  come  from?"  she  asked,  as 
he  rose  from  his  seat  near  the  table. 

"I've  lived  in  a  great  many  places,"  he  answered, 
evasively ;  "I'm  a  wanderer,  like  the  famous  Jew." 

"And  do  you  mean  to  stay  at  the  smith's?" 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "I  can't  tell.  I'm 
seeking  certain  things,  and  I  can't  tell  whether  I'll 
find  them  here  or  not."  Then  he  said  good-night  in 
his  formal,  rather  abrupt  manner. 

When  he  had  left  Gilbert  began  to  trace  patterns 
on  the  table  with  his  fingers.  "It's  clear,"  said  he, 
"that  Conrad  Grote  is  a  very  curious  man,  and  not 
much  like  the  rest  of  us  here." 

"And  what  do  you  think  of  him,  Gilly?"  asked  his 
aunt,  laying  her  sewing  in  her  lap,  and  looking  at 
him. 

"He's  like  a  sword  that  hasn't  been  drawn  from 
its  scabbard  for  some  time.  It  may  be  rusty,  or  it 
may  be  sharp.  Did  you  notice  his  eyes,  Sally?" 

She  nodded.    "Oh,  yes ;  eyes  are  most  interesting." 

"Some  eyes  seem  to  see  back  of  things ;  his  do,  to 
my  thinking.  Others  see  only  surfaces;  like  Tom 
Jellett's." 


OLIVER  PIPE'S  NEW  SMITH         187 

"I  think  I  like  Tom's  kind  best,"  she  said. 
"They're  always  frank  and  true." 

"And  Tom's  always  tell  you  what  they  think  of 
you;  eh,  Sally?"  he  teased.  "Now  you  don't  like 
Grote's,  because  they  don't  flatter  you." 

"Oh  la,  my  dear,  I  didn't  say  that,  did  I?  I  might 
be  able  to  make  them  if  I  chose."  Sally  rose  to  his 
bait  with  all  her  love  of  teasing  Gilbert. 

Gilbert  shook  his  head,  however,  and  resumed  his 
tracing  on  the  table.  Sally's  smile  increased  as  she 
watched  him ;  she  had  such  a  comfortable  sense  of 
security  when  her  nephew  was  with  her. 

As  for  Conrad  Grote,  he  went  home,  and  stood  a 
long  time  staring  at  the  embers  of  the  smithy  fire. 
His  thoughts  were  bitter,  like  purging  medicine. 
Scenes  of  his  life  trooped  before  him,  taunting  him 
with  mocking,  spectral  faces.  His  life  had  been  wild 
and  bad ;  a  catalogue  of  ill-directed  passions.  Pres- 
ently he  sat  down  on  the  smithy  bench,  and  gripped 
his  head  in  his  hands.  He  was  young,  and  yet,  like 
the  wandering  Jew,  he  felt  aeons  old.  He  would  have 
given  the  world  to  win  back  the  clear  vision  of  youth 
that  he  had  thrown  away  so  shamelessly.  But  there 
was  a  spirit  in  him  that  might  possibly  grow,  that 
seemed  the  only  chance  left  to  him  in  his  despera- 
tion, and  he  thought  that  here  in  this  poor,  strug- 
gling acre  of  Pump  Lane  lay  its  single  opportunity 
to  prosper.  He  concluded  that  it  was  here  he  must 
be  tried,  and  made,  or  broken. 


xrv 

THE  EVIL,  SEEDS   IN   CHEAPSIDE 

'"T'HE  ill  wind  possibly  blew  out  of  France,  where 
•*•  Mr.  Charles  and  Lady  Pamela  Tree  were  now 
sojourning,  wondering — when  they  had  time  to  won- 
der— how  it  was  that  the  Marquis  of  Romsey  had 
raised  no  hue  and  cry  after  them.  But  whether  it 
blew  from  France,  or  from  the  trading  cities  of 
Amsterdam  and  Rotterdam  as  some  wise  men  averred, 
which  in  their  turn  had  caught  the  wind  from  Italy, 
or  the  Levant,  or  Cyprus,  was  of  small  concern  com- 
pared with  what  it  carried,  which  was  nothing  less 
than  the  incubus  known  as  the  plague.  It  was  in 
mid-winter  that  two  men,  both  said  to  be  French,  died 
of  it  in  a  house  at  the  upper  end  of  Drury  Lane. 
Through  the  cold  weather  it  made  little  progress, 
but  in  early  spring  people  began  to  whisper  to  each 
other  that  there  was  more  than  usual  sickness  in  the 
parish  of  St.  Giles.  Rumor  carried  word  of  such 
matter  quickly,  and  before  long  it  was  known  that 
the  distemper  had  found  lodging  in  the  midst  of  the 
city,  in  fact  in  Bearbinder  Lane,  near  Stocks  Market, 

which  lay  in  the  crowded  parish  of  St.  Mary  Wool- 

188 


THE  EVIL  SEEDS  IN  CHEAPSIDE    189 

church.  Thereupon  well-to-do  people  began  to  close 
their  houses,  and  travel  into  the  country. 

In  Pump  Lane,  however,  people  went  about  their 
business,  paying  as  little  heed  to  the  rumors  as  they 
could.  They  were  busy  loving,  and  laboring,  and 
quarreling,  and  making  up  again  in  their  usual  old- 
fashioned  way.  The  Byberry  Boy  came  whistling 
down  the  street  from  his  butcher's  shop,  sturdy  and 
strong  and  merry,  an  outdoor  creature,  kept  in  the 
shackles  of  town  by  a  girl's  eyes  and  voice.  Kate 
Stanes  spun  and  tended  house,  and  Gilbert  limped 
to  his  clerk's  stool  and  back,  and  thought  inbetween- 
times  of  his  talks  with  Grote,  and  of  the  conclusions 
they  two  were  drawing  from  their  reading.  Mean* 
time,  Oliver  Pipe  had  come  to  like  his  assistant  so 
well  that  at  the  end  of  the  month  they  renewed  their 
bargain,  and  Grote's  became  a  familiar  face  in  the 
Lane.  But  it  was  a  face  that  still  puzzled  the  neigh- 
bors, for,  although  few  had  opportunity  for  inti- 
mate judging,  all  felt  that  the  dark  man  was  differ- 
ent from  themselves. 

As  for  Sally,  she  went  on  playing  at  Dniry  Lane 
whenever  that  theatre  was  open,  but  her  friends 
found  her  a  little  more  thoughtful  nowadays,  her  face 
more  apt  to  be  serious,  and  her  laughter  not  quite 
so  quick  to  answer  any  jesting.  Something  of  Gil- 
bert's reflective  mood  was  in  her  eyes  at  times,  though 
usually  when  she  was  alone. 

Then  men  began  to  observe  houses  in  the  heart 


190     THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

of  the  city  marked  with  a  red  cross  on  their  doors, 
and  the  toll  of  the  plague's  victims  increased.  The 
gentry  in  the  west  part  of  London  hurriedly  took  to 
their  coaches,  and  followed  by  servants  on  horses  and 
in  wagons,  crowded  the  roads  that  led  to  purer  air. 
The  Earl  of  Dorset,  now  for  some  time  despairing  of 
winning  Sally,  went  with  friends  to  his  seat  in  York- 
shire; Sir  John  Gorham  joined  his  mother  in  Devon, 
and  Lord  Verney,  accredited  as  an  attache  to  the 
court  of  Naples,  set  out  to  have  a  look  at  the  flesh- 
pots  of  Italy.  Red  crosses  gathered  so  thickly  in 
Drury  Lane  that  Mr.  David  Garrick  closed  the 
theatre,  and  went  into  enforced  retirement. 

In  the  crowded  streets  distress  and  superstition 
and  knavery  soon  stalked  about.  In  spite  of  clergy 
and  churches  men  talked  of  dreadful  omens,  blazing 
stars  or  comets  that  had  shot  into  the  skies  and  were 
to  be  heard  at  night  rushing  with  mighty  noise  across 
the  heavens.  Astrologers  gained  in  credit,  as  well  as 
in  purse,  and  many  people  clutched  their  amulets  or 
other  tokens  of  protection  as  zealously  as  they  made 
wide  circuits  about  pox-marked  doors  or  held  tobacco 
or  herbs  to  their  noses  when  pestilence-wagons  rolled 
through  the  streets.  Handbills  stuck  on  houses  or 
scattered  broadcast  advertised  "Sovereign  cordials 
against  the  corruption  of  the  air,"  "Anti-pestilen- 
tial pills,"  "Incomparable  drink  against  the  plague, 
never  known  before,"  or  gave  a  name  and  address, 
following  it  with  "An  eminent  High  Dutch  physician, 


THE  EVIL  SEEDS  IN  CHEAPSIDE    191 

newly  come  from  Amsterdam,  where  he  resided  dur- 
ing the  last  pestilence,  and  cured  thousands  that  ac- 
tually had  the  plague  upon  them,"  or  "An  Italian 
gentlewoman,  just  arrived  from  Naples,  has  a  choice 
secret  to  prevent  infection,  wherewith  she  did  mar- 
velous cures  in  Italy."  So  the  poor  people  were  hood- 
winked and  robbed  and  played  upon,  while  govern- 
ment and  reputable  doctors  preached  in  vain. 

In  Pump  Lane  it  was  much  the  same  as  elsewhere, 
though  there  was  more  time  given  for  protection. 
Shops  were  shut,  a  few  careworn  physicians  came  and 
went,  and  people  muffled  and  hooded  themselves 
against  infection,  bought  their  food  timorously, 
kept  indoors  from  the  night  damp,  and  went  about 
smelling  and  staring  and  shrinking  whenever  they 
heard  a  sudden  sound  or  met  a  frightened  face. 

Oliver  Pipe  said  to  Grote  one  afternoon  in  the 
smithy,  "You  seem  less  afraid  of  this  pestilence  than 
most.  Have  you  ever  known  it  before?" 

"Yes,"  answered  Grote.  "I  was  in  Milan  once 
when  it  was  there.  I  rode  through  the  city,  and 
found  it  the  Devil's  own  home." 

"In  Milan?  I've  heard  tell  how  dreadful  it  was 
there." 

Grote's  eyes  fastened  on  the  old  man's.  "In  a  field 
outside  the  city  I  fell  in  with  a  company  of  men  and 
women.  They  were  all  drinking,  and  singing,  and 
dancing  like  mad  folk.  I  had  to  use  my  pistols  to  get 
away  from  them.  Then  I  met  a  girl,  who  begged 


192     THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

me  to  kill  her,  or  take  her  away  on  my  horse.  I  took 
her  up — but  that  night  she  tried  to  stab  me  for  my 
money.  I  can  see  her  face  as  I  caught  her  at  it." 

"Thank  the  good  Saints  this  isn't  Italy!"  ex- 
claimed Pipe,  fervently.  "You  must  have  seen  con- 
siderable in  your  journeys." 

Grote  was  silent. 

"Such  things  are  enough  to  make  any  man  fear- 
ful," continued  Pipe. 

"Why,  no,"  said  Grote.  "Contemptuous  more  than 
fearful." 

There  were  no  smiles  in  Cheapside,  even  when  the 
sun  shone,  and  no  loud  voices  except  when  some  poor 
soul,  unbalanced  by  fear  or  calamity,  ran  howling 
objurgations  through  the  streets.  The  red  cross 
marked  more  doors,  women  went  farther  from  their 
homes  to  buy  provisions  from  country  folk  who 
stayed  on  the  outskirts  of  the  city,  and  who,  selling 
their  fresh  produce  as  quickly  as  they  could,  hastily 
retreated  before  possible  infection.  The  continual 
toll  of  bells  lent  warning  voices  to  the  day  and  night, 
watchmen  were  set  by  the  authorities  to  see  that  none 
of  the  sick  left  their  houses,  and  men  and  women 
shunned  the  company  of  their  kind  so  far  as  that  was 
possible.  They  knew  of  few  antidotes  or  protections 
for  the  most  part,  but  many  were  careful  to  carry 
rue  or  wormwood  in  their  hands  and  to  put  myrrh  in 
their  mouths  when  they  went  out-of-doors.  The  slight- 
est illness  was  cause  for  apprehension,  so  often  it  led 


THE  EVIL  SEEDS  IN  CHEAPSIDE    193 

to  the  sweating  and  sores  that  betokened  the  pesti- 
lence. Gloom  enwrapped  all  parts  of  London,  form- 
ing a  cloud  that  hung  heavier  in  the  air  than  any 
winter  fog. 

Under  the  cloud  some  few  kept  their  courage.  In 
spite  of  Grote's  saying  that  previous  experience  with 
the  plague  made  him  contemptuous  of  it  Oliver  Pipe 
considered  that  it  was  not  contempt,  but  strength  of 
spirit,  that  kept  his  assistant  so  calm,  and  the  example 
greatly  heartened  the  old  smith.  Others  felt  the 
same  influence.  One  day  Tom  Jellett  came  into  the 
smithy  and  found  Grote  hammering  a  horse-shoe. 
"They  tell  me  you've  lived  in  Italy,"  said  Tom,  "and 
know  the  pox.  What  can  we  men  do?" 

"Keep  up  folks'  courage,"  answered  Grote  shortly, 
laying  down  his  hammer  and  looking  at  the  big  man. 

The  prize-fighter  frowned  at  the  floor.  "A  little 
girl  who  lived  near  to  me  died  yesterday.  Small 
Walt  Butcher  is  down.  I've  fought  a  score  o'  fights, 
but  they  were  out  in  the  open.  This  thing  creeps  up 
behind  your  back." 

"The  people  in  Italy  ran  away  from  it,"  said 
Grote. 

Jellett  turned  on  him,  his  blue  eyes  angry.  "I've 
never  run  from  anything,"  said  he,  "nor  yet  been 
called  a  coward." 

Grote's  face  was  calm,  and  the  other  man's  anger 
vanished  as  quickly  as  it  had  come.  He  seemed  held 
by  that  quiet  scrutiny  of  the  smith,  and  stared  for 


THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

a  full  minute.  "Tell  me  what  to  do,"  he  begged  at 
last. 

The  little  half-amused  curl  of  Grote's  lips,  often 
remarked  by  Oliver  Pipe,  was  his  immediate  answer. 
The  smith,  apparently  lost  in  thought,  let  his  eyes 
roam  to  the  partly-opened  door.  "The  ancients  had 
a  saying  I  sometimes  think  of,"  he  said,  presently. 
"  'Physician,  cure  thyself,'  is  what  it  comes  to.  I 
am  no  wiser  than  the  rest  of  you." 

Jellett  scratched  his  head.  "I  be  no  scholar,"  he 
observed,  "only  a  lad  who  can  fight  with  his  fists. 
You  know  more  than  that,  and  you  can  think  out 
what  a  man  might  do." 

Grote's  gaze  fell  on  him  again,  but  the  smith  had 
no  answer  to  make  him.  Baffled,  and  somewhat  under 
the  spell  of  the  man's  strange,  silent  manner,  Jellett 
left  the  smithy  shortly  afterwards. 

That  night  Oliver  Pipe  encountered  a  new  phase 
in  his  assistant;  the  latter  was  talkative.  In  his 
chair,  his  black  eyes  fixed  on  the  fire,  rambling 
thoughts  shaped  themselves  into  words  while  Pipe 
listened  in  admiration.  His  apprentice  appeared  a 
man  of  experience,  and  one  who  was  pondering  deeply 
the  things  that  he  had  seen.  Most  of  his  talk  had  to 
do  with  Italy,  and  some  of  it  sent  a  chill  to  the  old 
man's  blood.  He  had  been  in  other  cities  than  Milan 
when  they  were  sacked  by  the  plague;  he  had  found 
nunneries  turned  into  shameless  shambles,  he  had 
seen  Princes  of  the  Church  fly  from  the  beseeching 


THE  EVIL  SEEDS  IN  CHEAPSIDE    195 

faces  of  their  terror-stricken  people,  he  had  heard 
noblemen  give  the  order  to  kill  any  who  came  to  their 
gates  for  aid.  "Such  a  high  value  they  set  on  their 
lives,"  said  he ;  "and  their  lives  meant  their  lusts !" 

Pipe  stared.     "Even  the  holy  men?"  he  exclaimed. 

Grote's  lips  smiled.  "Even  the  holy  men."  He 
brooded  over  the  thought.  "They  had  the  message 
in  their  Bible,  'He  who  saves  his  life  shall  lose  it,'  and 
they  shut  themselves  up  where  nothing  ill  could  find 
them — save  their  own  terrors,"  he  added. 

Pipe  nodded.  "But  ill  thoughts  are  better  com- 
pany than  the  plague,"  he  suggested. 

"You  think  so?"  said  Grote.  "Then  you  haven't 
tried  both." 

The  next  day  Oliver  Pipe's  assistant  went  forth 
early.  He  sought  out  a  physician  in  the  better  part 
of  London,  and  learned  from  him  what  he  could  con- 
cerning the  treatment  of  the  plague.  Then  he  ven- 
tured into  the  homes  of  illness,  the  poor  hovels  where 
love  tended  at  bedsides,  though  there  was  neither 
knowledge  nor  resources  to  come  to  its  aid.  What 
the  great  King  of  France  had  not  known  in  his  pal- 
ace, what  Cardinals  of  the  Roman  Church  had  been 
denied,  he  found  in  the  mean  streets ;  devotion  that 
took  no  thought  of  its  own  welfare,  sacrifice  that 
had  forgotten  itself,  love  that  never  faltered — these 
were  in  the  places  where  poor  men  and  women  battled 
with  disease.  And  he  found  more  than  this,  he  found 
doctors  who  had  not  deserted  the  sick,  but  served 


196     THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

them  with  every  resource  of  their  knowledge,  and 
nurses  who  went  in  at  the  forbidding  doorways  and 
cheered  and  eased  the  households  and  interpreted  the 
physicians'  orders  to  the  ignorant  minds  inside.  In 
the  home  of  Walt  Butcher  he  met  Sally  Temple,  a 
quiet,  low-voiced  woman,  to  whom  Walt's  father  and 
mother  now  instinctively  turned  for  help. 

Sally,  like  Grote  and  Jellett,  had  watched  and 
waited  until  she  could  do  so  no  longer.  Then  she 
took  it  upon  herself  to  help,  where  help  was  so  much 
needed.  She  too  had  learned  from  physicians  what 
she  could  do  to  safeguard  herself,  and  carrying  out 
their  instructions,  went  about  among  the  sick  in 
Cheapside.  Such  work  quickly  begets  at  least  a  cer- 
tain skill  to  perform  it,  and  she  grew  capable  and 
wise  and  patient.  Women  left  their  sufferers  to  her 
care  while  they  snatched  a  little  rest,  and  her  smile 
lightened  many  a  sick-room.  When  Grote  found  her 
beside  little  Walt's  bed  he  showed  no  surprise,  and 
though  from  that  day  on  they  often  met,  neither 
talked  to  the  other  except  of  their  work.  That  kept 
them  busy  enough  in  all  conscience,  and  left  little 
room  for  any  other  thoughts.  Between  them  they 
brought  Walt  Butcher  back  to  safety,  for  nursing, 
abetted  by  such  skill  in  physic  as  was  to  be  had, 
managed  to  avert  some  of  the  ravages  even  of  the 
plague. 

Jellett  begged  Grote  for  a  little  of  his  knowledge, 
and  with  this  the  prize-fighter  also  battled  with  the 


THE  EVIL  SEEDS  IN  CHEAPSIDE    197 

common  foe.  He,  too,  often  met  Sally,  and  his  love 
leaped  higher  than  ever  as  he  saw  the  devotion  and 
courage  that  seemed  to  grow  in  her.  She  was  vastly 
more  now  than  the  spirited,  beautiful  girl  he  had 
found  by  the  Surrey  roadside;  she  was  showing  a 
strength  hardly  to  be  expected,  although  to  Jellett 
mysterious  womankind  had  always  owned  a  subtle 
power  of  soul  that  men  knew  nothing  of. 

And  indeed  Sally  was  growing,  as  were  many  more 
in  distressed  London.  The  woman  was  supplanting 
the  girl  in  her,  although  the  girl  would  never  alto- 
gether vanish  from  her  eyes. 

Grote  became  a  great  figure  among  the  frightened 
people.  He  picked  up  knowledge  until  the  physicians 
knew  little  more  than  he,  and  his  help  was  begged 
by  the  needy  in  Cheapside.  Men  spoke  of  him  with 
quick-growing  respect,  and  obeyed  his  commands 
implicitly,  putting  reliance  in  him  as  in  no  one  else 
they  knew.  Sometimes  Sally  watched  him  with 
thoughtful  eyes,  and  as  she  did  so  she  echoed  the 
common  opinion.  He  had  a  strength  she  did  not  un- 
derstand, but  one  that  she  found  could  be  utterly 
dominating.  A  word  from  him,  and  she  did  his  bid- 
ding. Only  afterwards  did  she  wonder  at  him. 

For  three  long  months  the  plague-cloud  hung  in 
the  air,  and  boats  stopped  plying  on  the  river,  and 
shops  were  shut,  and  tongues  whispered  of  only  one 
topic.  The  toll  of  the  scourge  was  heavy  through- 
out London,  but  heaviest  in  those  quarters  where  the 


198     THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

poor  lived  cramped  together.  Sally  and  Grote  and 
Jellett  were  only  a  few  of  many  scores  of  fighters, 
for  where  need  comes  there  also  comes  help,  and 
champions  will  be  found  even  in  the  tangled  forests 
of  ignorance.  Sally  grew  white  and  her  eyes  were 
always  strained  and  tired,  but  she  knew  that  others 
needed  her  strength  more  than  she  needed  it  herself, 
and  gave  it  to  them  without  hesitation. 

"It's  wonderful  what  some  people  can  do,"  Oliver 
Pipe  said  to  Grote  at  one  of  those  rare  times  when 
they  supped  together.  "There's  Sally  Temple;  I've 
always  known  she  was  a  lass  o'  spirit,  but  from  what 
folks  say  she  has  brain  and  courage,  too.  She  puts 
her  hand  to  a  matter  and  she  does  it,  so  they  tell  me 
— like  as  if  her  hands  were  made  for  such  work. 
Who'd  have  thought  it  of  pretty,  willful  Sally?" 

Grote  made  no  reply,  except  to  nod  his  head  a 
little. 

"She  always  could  twist  men  about  her  fingers," 
continued  the  old  smith  reflectively,  "and  now  she's 
showing  that  her  finger  be  worth  being  twisted 
round.  She's  no  flutterby.  Take  my  word,  Conrad, 
she's  a  woman  as  makes  up  for  many  a  fickle  wench." 

"Whatever  you  have  heard  tell  about  her,"  said 
Grote,  "I  can  tell  you  ten  times  more  and  better 
things,"  and  he  got  up  from  the  table  and  put  on 
his  hat  and  went  out  to  a  house  in  the  Court  that 
bore  the  red  cross. 

In  spite  of  all  the  precautions  that  care  dictated 


THE  EVIL  SEEDS  IN  CHEAPSIDE    199 

Gilbert  Stanes  fell  sick  early  in  June.  He  com- 
plained of  a  fever,  and  stayed  in  bed,  and  as  the 
course  of  the  plague  ran  quick,  Sally  and  Kate  knew 
by  nightfall  that  he  had  taken  it.  Then  began  the 
same  scenes  in  their  little  dwelling  that  had  already 
been  enacted  in  so  many  other  homes.  A  physician 
brought  them  physic,  and  left  them  to  pit  their  nurs- 
ing against  the  attack  of  their  unseen  enemy 

Both  women  were  tireless  nurses.  They  divided 
the  twenty-four  hours  into  watches,  and  day  and 
night  either  his  mother  or  his  aunt  was  at  Gilbert's 
bedside.  His  small  room,  at  the  rear  of  the  house, 
was  lighted  by  a  single  window,  and  the  greater  part 
of  the  daytime  a  curtain  hung  over  it,  to  shield  the 
sick  man's  eyes.  In  that  dim  light,  Kate,  trained  by 
hard  years  of  toil  to  few  words  and  little  show  of 
feeling,  sat  by  her  son's  bed,  anticipating  his  wants 
as  best  she  could,  and  watching  him  with  eyes  filled 
with  prayers.  When  she  left,  Sally  took  her  place, 
moving  on  tiptoe  about  the  darkened  room,  or 
crouching  in  the  chair.  Her  cheeks  were  colorless, 
her  eyes  were  heavy-ringed,  and  only  her  loose-bound 
hair  still  kept  its  beauty.  She  gave  no  time  nor 
thought  to  herself  those  days,  for  every  consideration 
was  for  her  dear  nephew. 

Below-stairs  Tom  Jellett  took  up  his  post.  When 
he  first  heard  that  Gilbert  was  ill,  he  went  at  once  to 
Sally,  and  begged  that  he  might  be  allowed  to  share 
in  the  nursing. 


200     THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

"Kate  and  I  can  tend  him,  Tom,"  she  said. 
"There's  little  work  another  can  do." 

"But  I  love  him  too,  Sally,"  Jellett  protested,  "and 
though  I  be  heavy-handed  I  can  serve  him  somehow. 
Let  me  get  the  food,  and  fetch  the  water.  You  two'll 
be  so  busy,  someone  must  provide." 

She  looked  at  his  earnest  face,  that  had  often 
seemed  so  ingenuous  to  her  as  he  had  listened  to 
Gilbert's  reading  or  his  scholar's  words.  "You're 
very  kind,  Tom,"  she  said,  gently,  "but  there  are 
others  who  need  you  more.  Kate  and  I  can  manage." 

His  face  made  her  feel  almost  ashamed  of  her 
words,  his  blue  eyes  were  as  hurt  as  those  of  a  child 
unjustly  scolded.  "But  it's  Gilly  who's  sick,  Sally," 
he  protested  again.  "Let  me  tend  to  the  house  below- 
stairs." 

So  it  came  about  that  Tom  Jellett  took  his  station 
there,  and  saw  to  it  that  the  two  women  had  no  care 
beyond  that  of  the  sick  man. 

What  little  physic,  and  knowledge  gained  in  other 
cases,  could  do,  was  done,  but  for  the  most  part  it 
was  a  case  of  watch  and  pray.  Nursing  was  of  use, 
but  there  were  times  when  Gilbert  seemed  beyond  the 
reach  of  even  such  devoted  tenders,  and  Kate  and 
Sally,  knowing  too  well  the  story  of  the  plague  in 
other  homes,  felt  themselves  impotent  to  help.  They 
dared  not  look  at  each  other  for  the  fear  in  their 
faces,  and  the  knowledge  that  they  could  give  so 
little  aid. 


THE  EVIL  SEEDS  IN  CHEAPSIDE    201 

When  the  illness  was  near  its  height  Conrad  Grote 
came  to  the  house.  Sally  was  downstairs,  making  a 
cup  of  tea  to  carry  to  her  sister.  Tom  Jellett  had 
gone  on  an  errand,  and  Kate  was  with  her  son. 

"I  know  about  Gilbert,"  said  Grote,  abruptly 
walking  into  the  room.  "You  must  let  me  help  you. 
We've  seen  enough  of  this  together  for  you  to  know 
that  the  strength  of  two  is  better  than  one." 

She  remembered  the  many  times  when  they  had 
stood  together  lately,  and  how  he  had  seemed  of  un- 
told value  to  the  sick.  She  looked  up  at  him,  and 
saw  the  strength  in  his  drawn  and  haggard  face. 
"Gilly  does  need  you,"  she  said.  "He's  very  sick. 
Kate  is  with  him  now."  Then,  as  he  turned  and  went 
up  the  stairs,  she  stared  at  the  teapot  in  her  hand, 
wondering  for  the  thousandth  time  what  manner  of 
man  this  smith  with  the  eyes  of  a  Crusader  really 
was. 

Grote  went  upstairs  to  Gilbert's  bedroom,  where 
Kate  sat  watching  by  her  son.  He  saw  the  forlorn 
woman,  hands  knotted  in  her  lap,  brooding  in  dumb 
despair.  He  had  seen  the  same  figure  for  days  in 
other  houses,  the  pitiful  bent  toiler,  father  or  mother, 
too  worn  to  hold  any  hope  of  happiness  for  them- 
selves, watching  the  hope  they  had  passed  on  to  their 
child  flicker  and  fail. 

Kate  glanced  about  at  the  sound  of  the  man's  step. 
She  seemed  too  apathetic  to  care  who  might  enter. 
She  looked  again  at  her  son,  and  Grote  stole  in  and 


202     THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

stood  beside  her,  watching  Gilbert.  Presently  he 
poured  some  drops  into  a  glass  from  a  phial  that 
stood  on  a  small  table,  and  gestured  to  her  to  lift 
Gilbert's  head  and  give  him  the  draught.  She  did 
so.  A  little  later  he  repeated  the  act;  and  after- 
wards changed  Gilbert's  position  in  bed.  When  Sally 
came  to  relieve  her  sister  Grote  stayed,  and  from 
time  to  time  ministered  to  the  sick  youth. 

The  weary  hours  dragged  on,  but  now  insensibly 
both  women  felt  a  glimmering  hope  in  the  presence 
of  the  stranger.  He  had  control  of  the  sick  room. 
He  knew  what  should  be  done ;  but  more  than  that  he 
held  up  their  courage  with  his  own.  Kate  looked  at 
him  more  often,  and  something  she  saw  in  his  deep, 
considerate  eyes  each  time  cheered  her.  She  felt  that 
he  was  more  than  a  physician ;  but  she  did  not  try  to 
understand  his  power. 

Through  one  long  night  Sally  and  Grote  stayed 
in  Gilbert's  room  together.  Occasionally  they  whis- 
pered, but  for  the  most  of  the  time  they  were  silent. 
The  candle  showed  Sally  the  man's  intent  figure,  sit- 
ting like  a  soldier  on  guard,  his  face  absorbed  and 
alert.  She  watched  him  covertly,  shading  her  eyes 
with  her  hand,  but  she  did  not  once  catch  him  watch- 
ing her. 

That  long  night's  vigil  brought  the  man  and 
woman  close  together.  When  the  dawn  came,  and 
Sally  left  the  room,  Grote  went  with  her.  In  the 
little  hall  she  stopped  a  minute,  leaning  against  the 


THE  EVIL  SEEDS  IN  CHEAPSIDE     203 

wall.  "You've  been  such  a  help,"  she  said,  "such  a 
help!  I  can  never  thank  you  enough  for  it." 
"There's  no  need  of  words,"  he  answered.  "I  some- 
times think  we  understand  better  without  them." 

When  the  crisis  came  the  next  day  it  seemed  to 
Sally  and  Kate  that  it  was  Conrad  Grote  who  saved 
Gilbert  for  them.  He  stood  above  the  bed  and 
fought  the  plague.  Not  for  an  instant  of  the  long, 
racking  hours  did  he  relinquish  his  battle.  His  will 
rose  supreme,  and  the  sick  man  appeared  only  an 
instrument  on  which  he  played.  The  women  watched 
his  face,  set  in  every  line,  his  eyes  absorbed  with 
Gilbert.  The  day  passed,  but  he  never  relaxed  his 
vigilance ;  the  afternoon  waned,  and  at  last  his  tense 
lips  parted,  and  he  nodded  his  head.  They  looked  at 
Gilbert.  Some  spirit  told  them  that  he  had  turned 
the  corner,  and  was  coming  back.  Kate  fell  on  her 
knees,  and  Sally  turned  tear-filled  eyes  of  gratitude 
to  Grote. 

The  following  day  they  knew  that  Gilbert  was 
mending.  In  the  evening  Sally  went  downstairs  to 
the  room  in  which  Grote  and  Jellett  were  sitting. 
She  was  white,  but  her  eyes  were  very  happy.  Her 
lips  trembled  a  little  as  she  looked  at  the  weary  face 
of  Grote.  "It  was  you  that  saved  him,"  she  said. 
"You  and  you  only."  Her  voice  shook.  "Thank 
God  you  came  to  the  Lane." 

Jellett  nodded  at  Sally.  "Aye,  you're  right,"  he 
said.  "He  be  every  inch  a  man.  I  knew  it  when 


204     THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

first  I  clapped  my  eyes  on  him  at  the  smithy,  and 
what  he's  done  hereabouts  have  proved  it." 

"Gilly's  much  better  now,"  Sally  continued.  "Oh, 
but  you  must  be  worn  out  with  all  this.  Go  home 
and  rest.  We  can  watch  him  now." 

Grote  smiled.  "I'm  ready  to  take  your  orders," 
he  said,  quietly.  "I  think  I  could  sleep  till  Dooms- 
day." 

When  the  smith  had  gone,  Jellett  looked  at  Sally. 
"He  be  a  strange  man,"  he  said,  musingly.  "Some- 
times I  think  he  don't  belong  with  us." 

"And  where  does  he  belong,  then,  Tom?"  she 
asked. 

He  gestured  his  ignorance.  "He  might  be  a  gen- 
eral in  the  King's  army,  perhaps." 

For  the  first  time  in  days  Sally  laughed.  "Oh, 
Tom,  your  wits  are  surely  a- wool-gathering !  A 
blacksmith  be  a  general  in  the  army !" 

"But  he  be  no  common  blacksmith."  Jellett  rubbed 
his  head,  perplexedly.  "Come  to  think  of  it,  Sally,  I 
think  he  be  a  most  uncommon  sort  of  man." 

Sally  was  happy  enough  to  agree  with  any  state- 
ment. "Well,  Tom,  I  don't  know  but  what  you're 
right,"  she  said.  "But  whether  he  might  be  a  general 
or  a  smith  doesn't  matter ;  he's  saved  Gilly,  and  that's 
enough  for  now." 

Before  many  more  days  the  plague  was  loosing  its 
evil  hold  on  London,  which  lay  scarred  like  a  fire- 
swept  forest. 


XV 

SALLY'S  PROBLEM 

AS  the  long,  hard,  plague-burdened  winter  and 
spring  gave  way  reluctantly  to  the  sun  of  sum- 
mer the  Pump  Lane  people  came  slowly  back  to  some 
relish  for  life.  The  sickness 'had  run  its  course,  and 
though  its  toll  had  been  tremendously  heavy,  and 
strength  and  savings  had  been  sapped  to  the  break- 
ing-point, the  horizon  looked  a  little  clearer,  and 
there  were  a  few  blue  patches  in  the  sky.  So  men 
and  women  and  children  trod  the  ill-paved  Lane  and 
the  worse-paved  Court  a  little  more  cheerfully, 
fathers  and  husbands  and  sons  began  to  resume  their 
sessions  in  the  tap-room  of  the  Bear  and  Staff, 
mothers  and  wives  and  daughters  to  throw  open  their 
front  windows,  and  leaning  on  their  sills,  to  gossip 
with  their  neighbors  across  the  way,  or  critically  re- 
gard those  who  passed  in  the  street.  Like  flowers 
that  will  spring  up  afresh  every  Maytime,  the  old 
familiar  tricks  of  character  revived,  the  dormant 
Pharisee  shrugged  his  cold  shoulders,  the  shrew's 
tongue  clacked,  and  Mistress  Kilgore  renewed  her 
speculations  on  Sally  Temple's  future.  But  some 

at  least  had  changed  and  grown  and  ripened. 

205 


206    THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

A  new  character  now  stood  forth  boldly  in  that 
little  quarter  of  the  town,  and  one  that  furnished 
food  for  much  speculation.  His  nearest  associate, 
old  Oliver  Pipe,  was  known  to  regard  the  man  with 
almost  superstitious  awe.  He  had  confided  to  cro- 
nies that  Conrad  Grote  had  lived  in  Italy,  and  had 
seen  things  that  would  stand  one's  hair  on  end.  He 
was  scholar  as  well  as  blacksmith,  he  had  strange 
notions,  he  might  have  met  with  Satan  at  some  time, 
and  battled  with  him  in  the  desert.  These  thoughts 
spread  abroad,  and  were  twisted  and  exaggerated, 
until  the  smithy  became  a  Mecca  for  the  curious. 

All  the  Lane  knew  that  Grote  had  helped  half-a- 
hundred  households  during  the  plague ;  but  he  seemed 
to  disdain  all  thanks  for  what  he  had  done.  Grati- 
tude drove  him  instantly  into  his  shell,  and  he  could 
not  manage  to  come  out  from  it  to  meet  other 
people's  humors.  Therefore  the  neighbors  still  had 
to  view  him  from  a  distance,  the  older  men  and  women 
with  sober  eyes,  the  young  men  and  girls  with  frankly 
romantic  curiosity.  Now  and  then  maidens  shyly 
hinted  to  their  lovers  that  they  had  dreamed  of  the 
tall,  black-eyed  smith,  thinking  thereby  to  rouse 
sparks  of  jealousy. 

Two  men  came  frequently  to  the  shop  to  see  him — 
Gilbert  Stanes,  as  his  strength  returned,  and  Tom 
Jellett.  With  the  young  clerk  Grote  had  the  bond  of 
a  scholar's  knowledge,  but  with  the  prize-fighter 
there  was  no  such  easily-understood  common  interest. 


SALLY'S  PROBLEM  207 

Yet  Jellett  dropped  in  very  often,  and  sat  on  a  bench 
and  watched  the  other  man  work.  Sometimes  he 
would  ask  questions,  but  frequently  he  would  keep 
silent,  seeming  entirely  satisfied  to  gaze  at  Grote. 
Gilbert,  on  the  other  hand,  usually  talked ;  and  when 
the  invalid  was  well  again  it  was  not  unusual  for 
Mr.  Pipe  of  an  evening  to  find  his  shop  the  scene  of 
a  lengthy  argument  between  the  smith  and  the  clerk, 
while  the  Byberry  Boy,  with  fascinated  eyes,  if 
somewhat  puzzled  brow,  turned  his  head  from  one 
speaker  to  the  other. 

On  a  warm  Sunday,  when  Gilbert  could  be  out- 
doors, Jellett  procured  a  cart  and  horse,  and  drove 
Kate  and  Sally  and  their  convalescent  over  London 
Bridge  into  Surrey.  The  trees  were  in  full  leaf,  the 
hedges  a  shimmer  of  deep  green,  and  the  sky  that  in- 
describably sweet  blue  that  tempts  the  lark  to  sing 
his  very  best.  The  open  world  was  a  caress  to  Gil- 
bert. He  sat  silent  as  they  jogged  into  it,  his  eyes 
dreaming  over  the  stretching  downs,  his  white  face 
perfectly  content  with  the  soft  haze  that  the  sun 
called  from  gorse  and  heather.  Even  Kate  felt  the 
beauty  of  the  day,  although  it  was  Gilbert's  face, 
and  not  the  sky's,  that  brought  a  softness  to  her  eyes. 
She  had  her  arm  behind  him  to  shield  him  from  the 
jolts,  and  her  hand  held  his.  In  front  sat  Sally,  be- 
side Jellett,  her  hat  in  her  lap,  her  face  and  eyes 
beginning  again  to  look  as  fresh  and  smiling  as 
anything  Surrey  could  show. 


208     THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

They  came  to  an  open  meadow  beside  a  brook,  with 
a  lane  running  down  one  side  of  it.  Sally  chose  the 
place  for  their  camp,  and  Jellett  drove  to  some  wil- 
lows near  the  bank.  They  climbed  out  of  the  cart, 
and  with  the  water  at  their  feet,  and  the  trunk  of  a 
tree  for  Gilbert's  back,  they  ate  the  luncheon  Kate 
and  Sally  had  prepared.  Afterwards  Gilbert  and  his 
mother  sat  there,  while  Sally  and  Jellett  started  to 
follow  the  course  of  the  stream. 

An  old  stone  bridge  checked  their  progress  after 
a  time,  and  Sally,  throwing  her  cloak  on  the  grass, 
sat  down.  Jellett  stretched  himself  beside  her. 
"Oh,"  said  he,  "that  turf's  rarely  comfortable!  I 
wasn't  made  for  London's  stones." 

Sally  regarded  him  complacently.  "No,  Tom,  it's 
the  open  road  you  should  have,  the  free  road  where 
we  first  met.  Do  you  mind  the  day  when  you  came 
singing  down  the  highroad,  bread  and  cheese  in  the 
bundle  on  your  stick,  and  found  me  sitting  there 
alone?" 

"Do  I?"  said  he,  sitting  up  eagerly.  "You,  with 
your  feet  so  tired,  running  away  from  that  Mar- 
quis!" 

"You  were  very  kind  to  me,  Tom — I  had  a  wild 
man  to  deal  with." 

"You  be  right  there,  Sally.  He  was  a  wild  man ; 
wild  to  fight  me  with  fists  when  he  knew  naught  about 
it." 

The  girl  nodded  lightly  to  the  brook ;  but  when  she 


SALLY'S  PROBLEM  209 

looked  at  Jellett  her  face  was  thoughtful.  "He  was 
a  man  bent  on  having  his  way,  no  matter  what  stood 
between." 

"Women  should  mate  with  their  likes,  and  men 
too,"  said  Jellett,  his  eyes  on  the  water. 

Now  Sally,  who  had  had  to  be  serious  so  long, 
could  no  more  resist  the  lure  of  mischief  than  a  cat 
can  resist  cream.  She  pouted,  and  her  eyelashes 
flickered  dangerously.  "I  heard  tell  of  a  lady,  a 
Countess  of  Kew,  who  ran  away  with  a  simple  fight- 
ing man  ;  and  they  were  happy." 

"Did  you  so?  Well,  mayhap  a  fighting  man  be 
different.  Oh,  Sally,  dear,  come  down  the  road  with 
me!  I  can  win  a  living,  will  buy  you  gowns,  and 
never  a  word  on  my  tongue  but  love  for  you.  How  I 
would  fight,  my  dear!  I  could  knock  out  a  dozen 
like  old  Bombardier.  I  be  a  very  strong  man,  Sally ; 
fit  to  take  care  of  you." 

She  looked  at  his  powerful  chest  and  shoulders, 
his  frank  face,  and  clear  blue  eyes.  She  compared 
him  to  the  gentlemen  she  met  about  the  theatre,  and 
he  had  the  advantage  over  all  of  them.  She  thought 
of  Elihu  Knott  and  the  other  youths  of  the  Lane, 
sallow-faced  already,  who  had  once  sought  her.  He 
was  a  better  mate  for  her  than  any  of  them,  and  she 
imagined  that  she  understood  how  it  was  that  the 
great  lady  had  given  herself  to  the  prize-fighter  for 
joy  in  his  simple  strength. 

"Oh,  Sally,  come  with  me !"  he  begged. 


210    THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

She  clasped  her  hands  in  her  lap,  and  looked  down. 
"Oh,  Tom — "  she  said ;  and  stopped. 

"What's  the  matter?" 

"I  don't  know,"  sighed  Sally.  "Something  tells 
me  not  to." 

"What?"  he  demanded,  huskily. 

She  shook  her  head.  "I  don't  love  you  enough — it 
must  be  that.  And  yet  I'm  ever  so  fond  of  you." 

The  big  fellow  gazed  at  her  adoringly,  while  Sally 
trembled,  wondering  if  he  would  seize  her  in  his  arms. 
If  he  should  she  did  not  know  what  she  would  do,  it 
might  take  so  little  to  decide  her.  He  sat  still,  how- 
ever, having  no  notion  of  how  the  scales  were  trem- 
bling, and  his  silence  gave  her  a  respite.  "Tom,  dear, 
you're  a  very  fine  man,  and  a  lovable  one  too,"  she 
said,  ultimately.  "The  trouble's  all  with  me.  I'm 
like  a  candle-light,  blowing  a  different  way  in  every 
breeze.  And  some  day,  I  daresay,  I'll  be  sorry 
for  it." 

"You're  so  lovely,  Sally,  a  man  don't  care  what 
you  do." 

She  smiled — when  could  Sally  Temple  ever  fail  to 
smile  at  such  a  speech? — but  she  clasped  her  hands 
tighter,  and  shook  her  head.  "Yes,  it  does  matter. 
Some  day  I  might  be  sorry ;  and  if  I  give  my  heart 
to  the  wrong  man,  where  will  I  be  then  ?" 

Jellett  stared  at  the  back  of  his  hand,  that  was 
pressed  against  his  thigh.  "If  you'd  make  a  try  at 
it  with  me,  Sally?"  he  said. 


SALLY'S  PROBLEM 

"And  break  your  heart  when  it  failed?  Perhaps 
some  day  another  lad  would  come  down  the  road, 
singing  a  new  tune,  and  foolish  me  would  listen — 
just  like  the  woman  who  left  her  lord  for  the  fighter. 
It's  only  someone  who  takes  every  bit  of  my  heart 
can  hold  me,  Tom.  I  know  how  it  would  be,  giving 
pieces." 

She  ventured  to  look  at  him.  "A  lad  who  travels 
like  you  must  see  a  hundred  pretty  girls  in  a  twelve- 
month. Almost  any  of  them  is  better  than  I.  I'm 
so  strange — even  to  myself." 

His  steady  eyes  turned  to  hers.  "You  be  you," 
he  stated,  "and  if  I  married  a  dozen  others  the  face 
of  you  would  come  between  my  wife  and  me.  That's 
the  fact,  Sally.  I'd  be  forever  remembering  your 
eyes." 

"I'm  sorry,  Tom,"  she  said,  truthfully,  for  never 
had  she  met  with  greater  sincerity.  "If  I  were  only 
different  it  might  be — but  I'm  such  a  wayward  wo- 
man. You'll  find  someone  much  better." 

She  felt  unkind  and  hard,  he  was  so  gentle  and 
considerate  with  her.  A  silence  fell  between  them, 
broken  only  by  the  rippling  brook.  At  last  Jellett 
picked  up  a  stone,  and  threw  it  into  the  water.  "I'm 
such  a  fool!"  he  cried,  passionately. 

"And  I  too,"  echoed  Sally. 

"I'm  not  blaming  you,"  he  said.  "I'm  blaming 
my  own  wits." 

"Perhaps   if   you   knew   what    I   think   of    Sally 


THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

Temple  sometimes,"  said  she,  "you'd  be  ashamed  to 
keep  her  company."  She  laughed  constrainedly. 
"Let's  go  back  to  Kate  and  Gilly;  we  both  think 
well  of  them,  at  any  rate." 

It  was  a  day  out  of  fairyland  to  Gilbert  and  his 
mother,  and  their  calm,  rested  faces  spoke  reassur- 
ingly to  Sally.  Gilbert,  bundled  up,  his  eyes  on  the 
trees  that  lined  the  meadow  across  the  brook,  was 
talking,  while  Kate  appeared  to  listen.  As  usual,  it 
was  a  monologue;  but  neither  the  speaker  nor  the 
listener  seemed  the  less  pleased  for  that. 

Jellett  drove  them  home  before  sunset,  and  left 
the  three  at  their  door.  As  he  handed  Sally  down  from 
her  seat,  she  felt  his  strong  arm  tremble,  and  dared 
not  look  in  his  face.  But  his  voice  spoke  reassur- 
ingly in  her  ear.  "You  be  a  good  lass,  Sally.  Don't 
you  mind  for  me,"  he  whispered. 

"Thank  you,  Tom,"  she  answered,  with  a  squeeze 
of  the  hand;  and  turned  to  the  front  door. 

Soon  after  their  early  supper  Gilbert  went  up- 
stairs to  bed.  When  she  had  helped  Kate  with  the 
evening  chores,  Sally  stood  in  the  open  doorway, 
looking  into  the  street.  Already  the  twilight  was 
fading.  There  were  people  moving  about,  and 
sounds,  but  she  saw  and  heard  them  indistinctly. 
The  old  unnamable  longing  of  summer  was  in  her 
blood,  the  craving  for  life  that  is  as  much  pain  as 
pleasure.  A  year  ago  her  thoughts  would  have 
turned  to  Vauxhall  Gardens,  to  her  comrades  of  the 


SALLY'S  PROBLEM 

theatre,  or  her  admirers  of  the  other  end  of  town ; 
those  who  would  gladly  entertain  her  for  the  pleas- 
ure her  company  gave  them.  But  a  change  had  come 
over  her,  and  she  could  not  understand  the  new  flow 
of  her  thoughts. 

Presently  she  climbed  the  stairs,  and  knocked  at 
Gilbert's  door.  He  called  to  her  to  come  in.  His 
room  was  dark,  but  the  little  window  at  the  rear 
framed  a  patch  of  star-embroidered  sky. 

"You're  not  sleepy,  Gilly  ?"  she  asked ;  and  when  he 
assured  her  that  he  was  not,  she  sat  down  at  the  win- 
dow. "I'm  restless,"  she  said,  "and  want  to  talk  my 
thoughts  out."  There  was  a  silence ;  and  then,  some- 
what hurriedly,  she  began.  "Gilly,  do  you  remember 
the  night  before  I  went  to  Cumnor  Castle?  How  we 
talked  by  the  window?  How  I  told  you  I  could  out- 
face the  Marquis  or  any  man  alive?  It  seems  years 
ago.  Well,  Gilly,  it  was  true  enough  then,  I  was 
free  and  brave  and  self-reliant  as  could  be.  I  was 
so  sure  of  myself.  But  I'm  not  so  sure  of  my- 
self now.  I'm  growing  afraid,  afraid  of  so  many 
different  things." 

"Everyone  talks  of  how  brave  and  fine  you've 
been,  dear,"  said  her  nephew. 

She  went  on,  unheeding.  "Tom  asked  me  to  marry 
him  to-day — oh,  he's  done  it  before — there's  no  se- 
cret what  he's  staying  here  for.  I  don't  care  for 
him  enough;  and  yet,  Gilly,  he  seems  a  rock  of 
refuge.  It's  just  as  you  said  about  Rob  Sloane  and 


214     THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

Stephen  Tamworth,  honest,  poor  men  who  work, 
only  Tom  is  truer  and  stronger  than  they.  I'd  never 
be  jealous  of  Tom,  he'd  be  my  own  man  always,  and 
only  mine.  But  I  couldn't  say  yes  to  Tom." 

Gilbert  drew  himself  up  in  bed,  and  peered  at  the 
figure  by  the  window.  "Is  there  some  other  man, 
Sally?"  he  asked  in  his  quiet  voice. 

Sally's  face  was  turned  away  from  him,  but  he 
could  see  that  she  shook  her  head.  "No,  no.  But  I 
can  feel  there  might  be  a  different  man,  and  he 
might  make  me  most  unhappy,  Gilly ;  and — I  couldn't 
protect  myself  from  him." 

She  did  not  care  whether  Gilbert  spoke  or  not ; 
and,  though  he  cast  about  for  advice,  he  could  find 
none  to  fit  the  occasion.  She  rested  her  elbow  on 
the  sill,  and  watched  the  stars.  For  some  reason 
her  thoughts  went  back  to  a  night  when  she  had 
watched  them  from  the  hall  at  Cumnor.  She  could 
remember  how  she  had  trembled  when  the  Marquis 
stood  beside  her.  "Perhaps  it's  like  a  battle,  after  all 
— perhaps  that's  what  love  between  man  and  woman 
is,"  she  said,  "and  it's  man  who  wins  in  the  'end." 
She  caught  her  hands  together.  "Or  is  it  woman 
who  wins — and  doesn't  know  it?" 

Gilbert  smiled.  "You  will  never  deceive  yourself, 
dear,"  he  said.  "You  are  too  true  for  that." 

Sally's  eyes  looked  defiantly  at  the  stars  as  her 
thoughts  wrestled  with  her  problems. 

Presently  she  rose,  and  kissed  Gilbert  good-night. 


SALLY'S  PROBLEM  215 

She  went  to  her  own  room,  and  to  bed,  preoccupied 
and  serious.  The  moon  peeped  into  her  chamber, 
and,  as  if  to  reassure  her,  sent  a  silver  beam  across 
her  coverlet. 


XVI 

A  LANDLORD  VISITS  HIS  TENANTS 

TWO  men  ventured  into  Pump  Lane  a  few  days 
later,  and  walked  its  length  with  keenly  scrutiniz- 
ing eyes.  The  one  was  short,  slight,  and  dark,  with 
an  inquisitive  cast  of  countenance;  the  other  reddish 
of  face,  and  plethoric  of  habit.  "It's  been  a  bad 
winter,  what  with  the  cold  and  the  plague,"  said  the 
first,  "and  the  rents  are  very  difficult  collecting." 
"What  a  vile  sty  it  is!"  answered  the  other.  "It 
might  almost  be  better  to  burn  the  place  down,  and 
build  afresh.  You  say  the  pox  was  bad  here?  What 
a  pity  it  didn't  clean  out  the  kennels  for  me !" 

"Aye,  the  plague  was  bad,  and  the  cold  was  bad, 
and  food  was  high  as  St.  Paul's  Cathedral.  So  the 
rascals  say  when  my  men  go  for  the  rents." 

"Damme,  Talbot,  screw  it  out  of  them!  I'll  not 
have  a  man  Jack  living  on  my  land  a  day  without 
pay  for  it!  Do  you  hear  me?" 

The  short  man  could  not  help  but  hear,  as  the 
other  shouted  all  his  words.  "As  you  say,  your 
Grace,  as  you  say,"  he  replied,  nodding  his  head,  and 

throwing  out  his  hands. 

216 


LANDLORD  VISITS  HIS  TENANTS   217 

The  two  men  appraised  the  houses  as  they  went 
along,  the  reddish  one  listening  to  the  other's  state- 
ments of  facts  and  figures.  At  last  they  came  to  the 
open  door  of  Pipe's  smithy,  and  the  ring  of  hammer 
on  anvil  met  their  ears.  "Does  the  smith  yield  me  a 
profit?"  asked  the  burly  man.  "A  scant  one,"  an- 
swered Talbot.  "He's  an  old  man,  and  I've  been 
thinking  that  perhaps  we'd  best  turn  him  out." 

The  questioner  walked  in  at  the  door,  and  found  a 
young  man  standing  over  the  anvil.  "Not  so  very 
old,  Talbot,"  said  he,  pointing  at  the  workman. 

Talbot  looked  puzzled.  "Who  are  you?"  he  de- 
manded of  the  smith. 

The  latter  stopped  his  hammering.  "My  name  is 
Grote,"  he  answered. 

Talbot  wrinkled  his  brow,  as  if  trying  to  place  the 
man.  "Oh,  aye,  I  remember  now.  Grote — aye,  they 
told  me  about  you.  You  nursed  some  of  the  plague- 
ridden." 

"You've  plenty  of  work,  fellow?"  inquired  the  red- 
dish man  abruptly. 

Grote  shrugged  his  shoulders.  He  did  not  appear 
to  care  for  this  questioning. 

"How  much  do  you  earn  in  a  week?"  asked  the 
same  man. 

"That's  Oliver  Pipe's  affair,"  said  Grote. 

The  inquisitor  shot  him  an  angry  glance,  as  if  on 
his  part  he  did  not  relish  the  workman's  independent 
attitude.  He  tapped  his  stick  impatiently  against 


218     THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

the  smithy  floor.  "If  my  opinion  was  asked,  Tal- 
bot,"  said  he,  "I  should  say  this  fellow  had  a  churlish 
tongue." 

The  smith  dropped  his  hammer  on  the  anvil,  and 
his  fingers  took  a  grip  at  the  edges  of  his  leather 
apron.  "But  your  opinion's  neither  asked  nor 
wanted,"  said  he,  his  brows  beetling.  "If  you've 
work  to  be  done,  name  it ;  if  not,  yon's  the  door." 

The  small  man  gasped;  the  other  grew  purplish, 
and  made  a  curious  sucking  sound  in  his  throat.  His 
stick  stopped  tapping;  he  raised  it,  and  leveling  it 
at  the  smith,  cried,  "You  crop-eared  rascal,  you !" 

"One  moment,"  interposed  Talbot,  stepping  for- 
ward. "He  doesn't  know  who  you  are.  Smith,  you 
are  speaking  to  his  Grace  the  Duke  of  Chatto.  His 
Grace  owns  all  this  part  of  town."  He  grinned 
maliciously,  looking  as  if  he  expected  Grote  to  fall 
on  his  knees  and  grovel. 

Grote,  however,  did  nothing  of  the  sort,  but  con- 
tinued to  stare  at  the  reddish  man  with  level  eyes. 

"Have  you  found  your  manners,  man?"  thun- 
dered the  Duke ;  and  as  Grote  remained  silent,  "Have 
you  lost  your  tongue,  too?"  he  demanded. 

The  smith  smiled  at  him,  although  not  amiably. 
"I've  been  a  long  time  in  Italy,"  he  said,  "and  so  am 
unfamiliar  with  the  look  of  your  English  nobles. 
But  I  think  I  shall  remember  his  Grace  the  Duke  of 
Chatto." 

"What  do  you  mean,  fellow?"  exploded  the  Duke. 


LANDLORD  VISITS  HIS  TENANTS   219 

"What  I  say ;  no  more  nor  less." 

His  Grace  stared,  and  Talbot,  his  agent,  stared. 
Then  the  Duke,  who  had  a  certain  store  of  wisdom, 
swung  about  on  his  heel.  "It's  idle  talking  to  fools," 
he  said ;  and  marched  out  of  the  smithy. 

It  was  an  exceedingly  unpleasant  predicament  for 
Talbot,  who  had  already  found  the  Duke  in  no  very 
amiable  humor  that  morning,  and  who  now  saw  him 
flouted  by  a  common  blacksmith.  "Old  Pipe  shall 
pay  well  for  this,  your  Grace,"  said  he,  apologetic- 
ally. "I'll  add  a  shilling  a  week  to  his  rent.  Such 
a  surly  rascal  as  that  Grote  I've  never  clapped  eyes 
on  before !" 

The  Duke  had  stopped  in  the  Court,  and  was 
taking  snuff,  which  operation  made  him  appear  even 
less  attractive  than  usual.  "Damme,  Talbot,  it's  for- 
tunate the  people  aren't  all  like  him,"  he  said  sourly ; 
"he  stood  up  to  me  like  a  piece  of  cannon." 

"It  was  monstrous,  your  Grace,  monstrous !"  said 
the  agent,  spreading  out  his  hands. 

The  Duke  dropped  his  snuff-box  into  the  pocket  of 
his  coat,  and  bored  his  walking-stick  into  the  muddy 
street.  "In  the  old  days  I  might  have  had  him 
whipped  out  of  town  at  the  tail  of  a  cart,"  he  ob- 
served; "but  the  good  old  days  are  gone.  The 
people  have  too  many  liberties,  Talbot ;  devilish  more 
liberty  than's  good  for  'em!" 

"They  have,  your  Grace ;  it's  what  I  always  say," 
agreed  the  small  man,  who,  as  he  took  his  short, 


220     THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

mincing  steps  beside  the  Duke,  resembled  a  staidly- 
hopping  blackbird. 

They  were  retracing  their  passage  through  the 
Lane,  when,  half-way  down,  his  Grace  of  Chatto 
stopped  somewhat  abruptly.  "Who's  the  girl?"  said 
he,  digging  the  point  of  his  left  elbow  into  his 
agent's  arm. 

The  agent  saw  two  women  standing  in  front  of 
Mistress  Kilgore's  door;  but  he  had  no  difficulty  in 
making  out  which  one  it  was  that  his  noble  patron 
meant.  "That,"  said  he,  in  his  most  pleasant,  pur- 
ring tones,  "is  Sally  Temple.  Your  Grace  may 
have  heard  of  her?" 

"No.    Why  should  I?" 

"She  plays  in  the  theatre  at  Drury  Lane." 

"Ah  ?"  said  the  Duke ;  and  examined  the  girl  more 
closely.  "Now,  she  is  a  pretty  creature,  Talbot," 
he  continued.  "None  of  your  coarse  London  type, 
but  with  a  deuced  trim  figure.  Yet  she  won't  snap  in 
two  like  some  ladies  I  know.  Diana — what  a  Diana 
she'd  make  for  a  painter,  eh,  Talbot?  Running 
through  the  wood,  a  stag  beside  her,  hair  blown 
about — I've  some  of  'em  at  Chatto  House.  She's 
a  devilish  pretty  creature,  Talbot." 

No  wonder  the  agent  looked  pleased  at  the  first 
enthusiasm  his  noble  patron  had  shown  that  day. 
"She's  a  credit  indeed  to  Pump  Lane,  your  Grace," 
said  he,  eagerly. 

"I'll  walk  by,  and  look  at  her  more  closely,"  said 


LANDLORD  VISITS  HIS  TENANTS 

the  suspicious  nobleman ;  and  proceeded  down  the 
middle  of  the  way. 

The  two  women  stopped  talking,  and  glanced  at 
the  men.  Both  Sally  and  Mistress  Kilgore  knew 
Nicholas  Talbot  by  sight,  and  it  was  very  evident 
to  them  that  his  companion  was  a  gentleman.  There- 
fore they  curtsied,  and  drew  a  little  to  one  side. 
Sally,  however,  found  herself  so  frankly  stared  at 
by  the  reddish  gentleman  that  she  blushed,  and  then 
bit  her  lip  for  having  done  so. 

When  the  two  men  had  come  to  the  end  of  the 
Lane  the  Duke  stopped  again,  and  nudged  his  agent. 
The  latter  was  struck  with  the  peculiar  vividness  of 
his  Grace's  yellow-green  eyes.  "She's  better  near 
than  far,  Talbot,"  said  the  Duke,  rapping  his  walk- 
ing-stick against  the  other's  leg.  "Egad,  eyes,  hair, 
and  color  superfine!  Did  you  note  her  color  when 
I  ogled  her?" 

"A  beautiful  creature,  my  lord,"  agreed  the  time- 
serving Talbot. 

"And  how  came  such  beauty  into  Pump  Lane?" 
quoth  the  Duke.  "And  why  should  it  stay  here?  On 
my  word,  Talbot,  I've  not  seen  such  eyes  since  I  was 
at  Versailles  five  years  ago;  no,  nor  then,  come  to 
think  of  it,  for  when  an  English  girl  is  pretty  she 
outshines  any  of  those  French  wenches.  Damme, 
she  does,  I  tell  you,  Talbot !" 

"Your  Grace  is  always  patriotic,"  declared  the 
agent,  humbly. 


222     THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

"It's  a  fact,  Talbot,  a  fact,"  snapped  the  Duke. 
"What's  her  name  again?"  He  rapped  the  little 
man  on  the  shin. 

"Sally  Temple,  your  Grace." 

"And  she  plays  at  the  theatre  sometimes,  eh?  I 
shall  have  my  man  keep  an  eye  on  the  playbills. 
She's  spoilt  in  Pump  Lane,  Talbot.  Egad,  what 
eyes !  Silks  for  pretty  Sally,  and  a  little  nest  not  so 
far  from  Chatto  House." 

Then  an  unpleasant  thought  occurred  to  him. 
"Has  she  any  lovers?" 

"I'm  not  kept  informed,  your  Grace;  but  if  she 
has — "  The  agent's  manner  only  too  clearly  indi- 
cated that  the  Duke  had  nothing  to  fear  from  any 
possible  rivals. 

"Keep  an  eye  on  her  for  me,"  commanded  the 
Duke;  and  turned  into  the  high  street.  Talbot  ac- 
companied him  to  his  waiting  coach,  and  helped  him 
in.  The  little  man  watched  the  coach  drive  off,  and 
stood,  chuckling  to  himself.  By  accident  he  had 
found  something  that  might  help  him  to  keep  his 
patron's  favor  in  spite  of  the  poor  rents. 

If  the  noble  Duke  had  planted  one  sort  of  seed  in 
his  agent's  mind  that  day,  he  had  sowed  quite  another 
in  the  mind  of  the  blacksmith.  Gilbert  learned  this 
when  he  claimed  his  favorite  seat  in  the  smithy  that 
night,  and  talked  with  his  friend.  The  clerk's  main 
object  had  by  now  come  to  be  the  drawing  out  of 
Grote,  for  when  he  succeeded  in  that  he  was  certain 


LANDLORD  VISITS  HIS  TENANTS   223 

to  hear  a  stream  of  curious  facts,  strange  opinions, 
and  most  unusual  conclusions,  that  were  more  stir- 
ring to  him  than  any  book. 

This  night,  however,  the  smith  spoke  without  urg- 
ing. "I  had  an  honor  paid  me  this  noon,"  said  he. 
"The  Duke  of  Chatto  came  into  the  smithy.  Have 
you  ever  seen  him?" 

Gilbert  shook  his  head. 

"How  shall  I  draw  him  for  you?"  went  on  Grote, 
his  eyes  ruminating.  "Not  so  fat  as  a  hog,  yet  pig- 
like  ;  not  so  sleek  as  tallow,  yet  very  smooth.  Small- 
eyed,  loose-lipped,  a  rake,  a  usurer,  and  a  bully,  if 
ever  I've  seen  one." 

Gilbert  looked  about  nervously.  "Not  too  loud, 
Conrad,"  said  he.  "His  Grace  owns  all  this  place." 

"There's  none  to  hear,"  Girote  reassured  him, 
with  a  smile.  "Even  old  Oliver's  away." 

"And  what  did  he  want?"  asked  Gilbert. 

"I  think  he  was  making  sure  that  his  good  agent 
was  taxing  the  people  enough." 

"He's  screwed  the  last  farthing  out  of  us  al- 
ready." 

"Aye,  that  his  Grace's  bread  may  be  sweet  and 
fine;  that  he  may  wear  his  satins,  and  tempt  his 
palate,  and  deck  out  his  women.  I  know  the  working 
of  it;  oh,  I've  seen  his  Grace  before,  the  Duke  of 
This,  and  the  Count  of  That,  and  the  Prince  of 
T'other.  A  noble  crew,  our  masters,  Gilbert;  be 
thankful  your  farthings  help  to  feed  them!" 


224.     THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

"He's  made  you  too  bitter,  Conrad.  It  isn't  wise 
to  think  of  the  difference  between  us." 

Grote  stroked  his  chin  with  his  hand  in  his  old 
habit.  "What  do  you  think  of  our  nobles  yourself?" 
he  asked. 

Gilbert  leaned  forward  in  his  chair.  "I've  no  love 
for  them,"  he  said,  his  voice  lowered.  "They  take 
whatever  they  want,  and  give  nothing  in  return. 
They're  not  even  good  fighting  men  any  longer. 
Selfish,  cunning,  cruel  they  are,  Conrad.  I'll  tell  you 
something.  It's  Sally's  story ;  but  I  can  trust  you 
with  it.  She  went,  to  help  some  gentlefolk,  to  the 
house  of  one  of  these  nobles,  the  Marquis  of  Rom- 
sey." 

"Yes,"  said  Grote,  shielding  his  eyes  with  his  hand. 

"This  Marquis  was  a  tyrant,  mean,  and  cold,  and 
bitter.  She's  told  me  all  about  him.  He  thought  she 
was  his  ward,  and  wanted  to  marry  her ;  he  would 
have  driven  her  into  doing  it;  and  once  she  was  his 
he  would  have  left  her  alone  to  eat  out  her  heart  in 
chagrin.  With  such  a  master,  what  chance  would 
Sally  have  had?  She'd  have  been  only  a  pretty 
flower  in  his  garden ;  nothing  more.  Thank  God  she 
got  away !" 

Grote  shifted  in  his  seat,  but  kept  his  face  hidden. 

"For  that  Marquis  was  a  beast,"  continued  Gil- 
bert. "He  was  used  to  taking  whatever  he  wanted, 
whether  it  was  a  girl  or  a  poor  man's  farm.  He 
must  have  whatever  he  fancied;  and  so  it  is  with 


LANDLORD  VISITS  HIS  TENANTS   225 

all  of  the  nobles,  they're  just  beasts  of  prey, 
Conrad." 

"And  if  this  Marquis  had  married  her,  you  think 
it  would  have  made  small  difference  to  him?" 

"There  was  no  love  between  them.  How  could 
there  be,  between  Sally  and  such  a  creature?" 

"How  could  there  be?"  echoed  Grote.  "Honesty  on 
the  one  side,  and  deviltry  on  the  other;  the  strains 
will  not  mix."  He  rose,  and  paced  between  the  door 
and  his  bench.  "Yes,  Sally  was  fortunate  to  escape 
that  man,"  said  he.  "It  would  have  been  an  ill  fate 
for  such  a  woman  as  she." 

"You  think  well  of  her,  don't  you,  Conrad?"  Gil- 
bert queried  eagerly. 

The  smith's  face  was  away  from  Gilbert,  but  the 
latter  could  not  doubt  the  sincerity  of  his  words. 
"I  think  her  as  fine  a  woman  as  God  ever  made," 
said  he,  "as  fine  as  she  is  beautiful." 

The  clerk's  face  brightened.  He  sat  back  and 
clasped  his  hands  behind  his  head.  "So  now  you 
have  my  feeling  on  our  masters,"  said  he.  "My 
Marquis  of  Romsey  to  your  Duke  of  Chatto — both 
the  same  breed." 

"The  same  breed,"  agreed  Grote.  Then,  to  Gil- 
bert's great  surprise,  Grote  turned  suddenly,  and 
stared  at  him  with  searching  eyes.  "Can  any  good 
come  out  of  such  a  crew  ?"  he  demanded.  "Can  black 
ever  turn  white — or  even  gray?" 

"Not  the  black  Marquis   of  Romsey,  at  least," 


THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

answered  Gilbert,  with  a  half -laugh.  "  'There's  no 
good  in  him,'  said  Sally;  and  she's  not  over-hard  in 
judging  men." 

Grote  drew  away,  and  stood  with  folded  arms  and 
head  a  trifle  bent.  "It's  said  the  leopard  cannot 
change  his  spots,"  said  he,  "so  why  the  man  change 
the  lusts  that  were  born  in  him?  Yet  the  hottest- 
blooded  man  I  ever  knew  in  Italy  became  a  hermit 
in  the  desert." 

"You  have  strange  moods,"  said  Gilbert. 

The  smith  looked  up.  "Black  moods,  wild  moods ! 
It's  a  bitter,  savage  fight !  But  I  will  beat  them  yet, 
I'll  shake  the  poison  out  of  them,  I'll  drive  the  herd 
of  sickened  swine  into  the  sea!  Mark  my  words, 
Gilbert,  they  shall  do  my  bidding!" 

Suddenly  he  was  a  priest  exorcising  devils,  a  chief- 
tain routing  traitors ;  such  for  the  moment  was  the 
face  and  figure  of  Conrad  Grote  the  smith.  The 
clerk  could  not  understand  him;  but  was  immensely 
shaken.  He  gazed  spellbound,  until  the  sudden  pas- 
sion dropped  from  the  man's  face,  and  Grote  stood 
pale  and  tremulous  before  him. 

Some  of  the  wonder  was  still  in  Gilbert's  mind 
when  he  went  home,  and  found  Sally  yet  astir. 
"What  a  strange  man  Conrad  is!"  said  he.  "If  he 
weren't  such  a  good  man,  I'd  think  he  had  some  evil 
on  his  conscience." 

Sally  smiled.    "How  much  you  do  like  him,  Gilly !" 

"Why,  so  I  do ;  though  he  puzzles  me.     Have  you 


LANDLORD  VISITS  HIS  TENANTS    227 

ever  felt  the  strangeness  in  him,  like  a  wild  animal 
kept  in  leash?" 

"Yes,"  admitted  Sally.  She  wrinkled  her  brows 
at  some  thought  of  her  own,  and  then,  suddenly  turn- 
ing, put  her  hands  on  her  nephew's  shoulders,  and 
kissed  him.  "Don't  have  too  much  to  do  with  wild 
animals,  dear,"  she  said ;  "they  bring  unhappiness ;" 
and  was  gone  before  he  could  ask  what  she  meant. 


XVII 

THE  SUPPER  AT  RICHMOND 

T"*HE  theatres  of  London  opened  their  doors  for 
•••  the  first  time  since  the  plague  in  the  early  sum- 
mer, and  near  the  end  of  June  George  Willis,  of 
Drury  Lane,  brought  Sally  a  commission  to  appear 
at  that  famous  playhouse,  and  act  a  leading  role  in 
a  new  drama.  The  play-going  public,  more  eager 
for  pleasure  than  ever  since  its  banishment,  was 
heartily  glad  to  see  her  again,  and  gentlemen  eyed 
her  through  their  quizzing-glasses,  while  ladies  re- 
called all  the  spicy  bits  of  gossip  that  had  ever  been 
whispered  concerning  the  young  woman.  Like  a  star 
of  a  steady  orbit  that  is  certain  to  delight  the  eye, 
Sally  swam  into  the  town  sky,  and  glowed  and 
shone  there.  As  a  year  before,  so  now  her  name  was 
bruited  about,  and,  as  was  the  custom  among  her 
circle  of  acquaintances,  she  fell  again  into  the  way 
of  being  seen  in  Vauxhall  Gardens  on  pleasant  after- 
noons. 

It  was  in  that  delightful  enclosure  that  Sir  John 
Gorham  happened  to  encounter  Charles  Tree  one 

day  in  July.     ''Well,  well,  Charlie,"  exclaimed  the 

228 


THE  SUPPER  AT  RICHMOND        229 

baronet,  giving  the  other  a  hearty  grasp  of  the  hand, 
"back  from  France  at  last?  Egad,  your  honeymoon 
has  run  to  a  year  of  honey!  And  how  is  the  Lady 
Pam?" 

"Blooming,"  said  Charles.  "We  stop  with  my 
aunt  in  Curzon  Street." 

"And  she  does  not  require  you  to  hold  her  hand 
all  day?  Charles,  should  you  be  gadding  about  on 
pleasure  without  her?  Do  you  mind  it  was  only  a 
year  ago  your  coach  broke  down  in  the  road,  and  we 
found  you  sitting  under  the  laburnum?" 

"Indeed  I  do,"  Charles  replied. 

Sir  John  grinned.  "Dorset  and  Verney  and  I. 
The  poor  little  Earl,  he's  just  married  Lady  Ara- 
minta  Gosling — his  mother  drove  him  to  it  while  they 
were  in  Yorkshire — their  estates  touch.  Verney's 
in  Naples ;  and  only  I  remain." 

"And  you  found  Mistress  Temple  for  me  here," 
continued  Charles,  "and  she  saved  the  day  for  Pam 
and  me." 

"So  she  did.  Has  the  dragon  ever  relented  to 
you?" 

"Curious  thing,"  pondered  Charles.  "Romsey 
disappeared  a  few  months  later.  He  left  word  he 
was  going  back  to  Italy,  being  tired  of  life  at  Cum- 
nor." 

"You  should  have  seen  how  Sally  baited  him  there ! 
He  didn't  find  life  tiresome  while  she  stayed.  What 
doings  there  were  at  Cumnor !  And  what  a  battle  he 


230     THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

put  up  with  a  fighting-man  all  on  account  of  her!" 
Sir  John's  eyes  gleamed  at  the  recollection. 

"How  is  the  brave  girl?"  asked  Charles. 

Sir  John  shook  his  head,  while  he  twirled  his  light 
malacca  walking-stick.  "I  see  very  little  of  her. 
Some  say  she's  prettier  than  ever.  I  caught  a 
glimpse  of  her  last  week.  But  there's  a  story  for- 
ward— "  Sir  John  shook  his  head,  regretfully. 

"What  story?" 

"A  great  ship  o'  the  line  is  chasing  our  little  pin- 
nace, a  great  ship  that  can  bring  many  guns  to 
bear." 

"Who?" 

"No  other  than  his  Grace  of  Chatto,  the  old  Red 
Fox.  And  what  can  any  girl  do  with  him?" 

"It's  not  fair  sport,"  protested  Charles. 

"When  did  the  Duke  ever  play  fair?" 

Charles  Tree  looked  across  at  the  Mall.  "I  de- 
clare I  think  I  see  Mistress  Temple  now,"  said  he; 
and  he  pointed. 

Sir  John  followed  his  finger.  "And  with  Chatto, 
too !  Good-by,  Sally  Temple.  May  the  Saints  de- 
fend you!" 

The  Duke  of  Chatto  was  evidently  regarded  as  a 
privileged  potentate,  for  none  of  the  unattached  men 
in  the  Gardens  joined  Sally  and  him,  although  the 
girl  had  never  looked  more  lovely,  nor  carried  herself 
with  a  more  alluring  grace. 

"Mistress  Temple,"  the  Duke  was  saying  to  her, 


THE  SUPPER  AT  RICHMOND        231 

"I  shall  make  it  my  affair  to  see  that  your  next  rdle 
at  Drury  Lane  is  more  worthy  of  your  talents.  You 
should  hold  the  center  of  the  stage  all  the  time. 
They  treat  you  very  badly." 

"If  that's  your  opinion,"  she  said,  "I  wish  you 
were  the  manager." 

Chatto's  eyes  were  like  a  fox-terrier's  as  he  watched 
her  face.  "From  the  hour  I  saw  you  first  at  the 
theatre,"  said  he,  "I've  had  no  thought  of  any  other 
woman." 

"Oh,  how  can  I  believe  that!" 

"You  must,"  said  he,  very  positively ;  "and  much 
more,  too !  Prove  it  by  asking  any  gift  of  me." 

She  looked  at  him  sidewise,  and  his  reddish  face 
grew  still  more  sanguine.  She  was  teasing  him,  and 
if  there  was  one  thing  the  Duke  could  not  withstand, 
it  was  being  teased  by  a  pretty  woman. 

"Sally,"  he  said,  inflecting  his  voice  to  a  cajoling 
murmur,  "ask  anything  of  me;  I  can't  resist  you." 

There  were  a  great  many  things  she  might  have 
asked  him  for,  such  as  the  free  rental  of  her  sister's 
house  in  the  Lane,  or  a  cloak  of  ermine,  or  even  a 
coach-and-four,  with  a  stable  to  keep  it  in.  This 
new  admirer  of  hers  was  not  only  Duke  of  Chatto, 
and  Marquis  of  Quorn,  and  Viscount  of  Foljambe, 
but  so  rich  that  he  could  have  bought  the  bigger  half 
of  London  for  a  country-seat.  It  was  intoxicating 
just  to  think  of  such  wealth  as  his. 

"Ask   anything   I   want?"    said   Sally,   with   her 


232     THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

lashes  lowered.  "Then,  pray,  who  was  the  last  woman 
you  made  that  offer  to?" 

"On  my  word —  "  began  his  Grace. 

"For  sure  you  must  have  made  that  offer  before 
to  know  how  tempting  it  sounds.  And  what  did  she 
take?  And  where  is  the  lady  now?  You  see  I  would 
like  to  know  what  happens  to  them."  She  flashed 
a  glance  at  his  baffled  face. 

"You  treat  me  unfairly,"  said  he.  "I  place  my- 
self at  your  feet;  and  you  make  sport  of  me." 

"That's  the  way  of  the  world,"  said  Sally,  "And 
see,  you  refuse  my  very  first  request." 

The  Duke  gnawed  his  under-lip ;  he  was  not  mak- 
ing his  customary  progress.  Yet  when  he  consid- 
ered the  situation  it  looked  simple  enough ;  an  unpro- 
tected quarry  running  before  him,  to  be  tired  out 
and  overtaken  when  he  would. 

But  he  had  to  do  with  a  girl  who  was  much  wiser 
than  he  thought.  Sally,  so  far  in  her  experience, 
had  kept  her  head  where  gentlemen  were  concerned, 
and  the  Duke  of  Chatto,  though  the  noblest,  was  by 
no  means  the  first  of  his  breed  she  had  met.  She 
knew  his  strength  and  his  weakness,  she  had  meas- 
ured him  at  an  early  meeting,  and  she  had  trust 
enough  in  herself  to  face  him  fairly. 

It  was  well  she  had  confidence,  for  his  Grace  was 
a  persistent  suitor.  Whenever  she  left  the  Lane  he 
was  likely  to  appear ;  he  grew  to  be  a  constant  votary 
of  the  theatre;  he  filled  Sally's  dressing-room  at 


THE  SUPPER  AT  RICHMOND        233 

Drury  Lane  with  the  choicest  blooms  from  his  own 
gardens ;  he  tried  to  keep  himself  continually  before 
her.  When  the  Duke  came  on  the  scene,  all  others 
deserted  Sally ;  he  was  too  great  a  man  to  have  his 
wishes  thwarted  in  any  particular ;  and  neither  actor 
nor  actress,  lordling  nor  fop,  cared  to  brave  the 
anger  of  his  eye.  To  tell  the  truth,  most  of  the 
theatre  and  the  world  that  mixed  with  it  were  im- 
mensely edified  at  the  pursuit.  Sally  was  lucky  to 
have  caught  such  a  prize,  they  said;  and  they  only 
hoped  that  she  would  bleed  him  to  the  Queen's  taste. 
Gossip  had  it  that  his  Grace's  wife,  who  had  left 
Chatto  House  three  months  after  her  marriage,  and 
lived  in  a  mansion  of  her  own,  had  remarked  to  an 
intimate  friend,  "I  hope  the  little  hussy  asks  him 
for  the  family  jewels.  Chatto's  fool  enough  to  try 
to  give  them  to  her !"  It  was  noticed,  however,  that 
no  new  jewels  adorned  the  pretty  actress. 

Then  came  the  Duke's  invitation  to  several  of  the 
Drury  Lane  company  to  sup  with  him  one  Sunday 
night  at  his  villa  at  Richmond.  Sally  assured  her- 
self that  three  other  girls  were  going,  before  she 
said  she  would  be  glad  to  make  one  of  the  party.  On 
Sunday  evening  his  Grace's  coach  rolled  her  out 
from  London. 

The  supper  was  served  in  a  charming  room,  with 
long  French  windows  opening  on  to  a  sloping  lawn 
that  stretched  to  the  Thames.  The  silver  reaches  of 
the  river  glistened  in  the  moonlight,  and  the  air  was 


THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

spiced  with  flowers.  The  gardens  were  a  delight  to 
the  town-girls,  and  in  so  far  as  it  could  the  Duke's 
supper  fitly  complemented  the  brilliant  beauty  of  the 
night. 

His  Grace  was  in  a  humorous  mood,  and  his  guests 
did  their  best  to  keep  him  in  it.  The  men,  young 
fashionables  living  on  the  outskirts  of  Bohemia,  ap- 
plauded his  wit,  while  they  drank  abundantly  of  his 
famous  claret.  The  girls  discreetly  left  the  post  of 
honor  to  Sally,  upon  whom  the  Duke  lavished  pro- 
fuse attentions,  and  whose  face  was  the  constant 
lodestone  of  his  eyes. 

Supper  ended,  the  Duke  proposed  that  they  should 
explore  his  grounds.  He  drew  Sally  down  toward 
the  river,  talking  more  eloquently  than  ever,  as  the 
fragrance  of  his  wines,  his  flowers,  and  his  hope  of 
success  mounted  to  his  head.  He  found  her  a  seat, 
with  a  wide,  appealing  view,  and  from  his  position 
beside  her  assailed  her  with  all  the  wiles  of  his  long 
experience  in  such  encounters. 

It  was  a  night  specially  made  for  yielding  to  ro- 
mance, and  Sally  was  inclined  to  be  patient  with  any 
Romeo.  Her  eyes  drank  in  the  silver-scattered  water, 
the  silver-star-strewn  sky,  and  she  sighed  for  very 
pleasure  in  them.  But  when  she  listened  to  the  man 
beside  her  she  heard  only  the  craft  of  the  beast  in 
his  honeyed  phrasings,  and  clasped  her  hands  tightly 
in  her  lap  and  kept  on  guard. 

She   thought   she  must  have   hearkened   to   that 


THE  SUPPER  AT  RICHMOND        235 

honeyed  tongue  for  hours,  and  paid  no  heed  to 
what  it  said.  She  overlooked  who  he  was,  and 
weighed  him,  man  for  man,  against  the  worst  knave 
in  Pump  Lane,  and  found  the  knave  the  better  crea- 
ture. Yet  she  felt  sure  enough  of  herself  to  endure 
it,  although  the  enchantment  of  the  night  was  broken 
like  a  cracked  bell  by  the  Duke's  tributes  to  her 
charms. 

She  rose  at  last,  half  regretful  to  leave  such  a 
lovely  scene,  half  wild  to  fly  from  it.  A  white  scarf, 
that  was  her  only  headdress,  had  slipped  from  her 
hair,  and  hung  from  her  shoulders.  She  crossed 
the  grass  with  a  light,  springing  tread.  "You  are 
Diana  indeed,"  murmured  the  Duke  at  her  side; 
"I  always  think  of  you  so;  incomparably  fair  and 
free,  sweet  as  a  summer  night,  and  stabbing  us  with 
your  smiles.  Some  day  I  will  have  a  sculptor  catch 
you,  so  I  can  keep  you  for  myself.  There  shall  be 
a  grotto  for  you  in  the  park." 

"How  I  will  freeze  in  winter,"  said  Sally,  lightly, 
"if  your  sculptor  catches  me  like  this." 

"Then  you  shall  stand  in  Chatto  House  instead. 
There's  not  a  statue  nor  a  portrait  there  can  com- 
pare with  you,  you  beauty!" 

"I'd  feel  like  the  wife  of  Bluebeard  looking  at  all 
those  other  women,"  she  protested. 

"They  shall  all  be  cleared  away  when  I  enthrone 


you." 


'No,  no;  a  woman  should  be  reminded  for  her 


236     THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

soul's  good  that  she  is  neither  the  first  in  any  man's 
life,  nor  like  to  be  the  last." 

"I  swear,  Sally — "  he  started. 

"Oh,  no,  save  your  breath,  sir.  If  I  were  the  first 
it  would  only  prove  your  Grace  a  dullard,  and  if  I 
were  the  last  a  simpleton ;  and  your  Grace  is  neither. 
A  man  of  taste  never  confines  himself  to  dark  or 
light  coloring,"  she  rattled  on ;  and,  as  if  to  protect 
herself,  she  turned  and  laughed  in  his  face. 

By  this  time  they  had  come  to  the  terrace  of  the 
villa.  The  curtains  were  fluttering  before  a  light 
breeze  as  Sally  stepped  in  at  one  of  the  French  win- 
dows. The  table  at  which  they  had  supped  had  been 
cleared,  and  was  now  decorated  with  a  silver  dish  of 
nectarines  and  grapes,  and  decanters  of  port,  and 
glasses. 

The  Duke  filled  a  glass,  and  offered  it  to  Sally, 
but  she  shook  her  head.  He  drank  the  wine  himself, 
refilled  the  glass,  and  set  it  on  the  table.  "Some 
fruit,"  he  urged,  "at  least;"  and  drew  out  a  chair 
for  her. 

"Where  are  the  others?"  asked  Sally.  "It  must 
be  time  we  started  back  to  town." 

The  Duke  smiled,  and  made  her  a  little  bow.  "It 
would  be  most  inhospitable  of  me  to  permit  you  to 
leave  my  roof  at  this  hour.  You  must  do  me  the 
honor  to  remain  my  guest." 

Then  Sally  understood  that  she  had  been  trapped, 
and  that  her  companions  had  been  induced  to  leave 


THE  SUPPER  AT  RICHMOND        237 

her  with  this  man.  Instantly  she  rallied  her  innate 
courage,  and  smiled  as  she  caught  the  ends  of  her 
scarf  in  her  two  hands  and  knotted  them  loosely 
across  her  bosom.  "Your  Grace  is  too  considerate," 
she  said  lightly.  "I'm  used  to  late  hours,  and  if  I 
shouldn't  go  home  my  sister  and  nephew  would  be 
very  much  worried." 

"Sally,"  said  the  Duke,  stepping  up  to  her,  "make 
the  villa  your  home.  It  and  I  and  all  my  servants 
are  at  your  disposing,  if  you'll  only  be  kind  to  me. 
I've  thought  of  nothing  but  you  for  a  whole  month 
past.  How  can  I  let  you  go  when  I  have  you  here?" 

Still  Sally  smiled,  though  his  covetous  outstretched 
hands  could  have  touched  her.  "See,"  said  she, 
"wouldn't  it  be  better  for  you  to  go  on  thinking  of 
me  for  a  whole  month  more,  than  to  forget  me  alto- 
gether?" 

"Forget  you !"  he  cried.  "Forget  your  eyes,  your 
lips !" 

"Yes,  forget  me,  as  you  have  forgotten  the  other 
women.  Do  you  remember  the  eyes  and  the  lips  of  the 
last  woman  who  stayed  here?  She  is  gone  entirely, 
she  means  nothing  to  you.  If  you  would  keep  me, 
you  must  let  me  go."  She  was  using  all  her  wits 
now. 

"How's  that?"  he  demanded. 

Sally  laughed ;  and  pointed  him  to  the  chair  he  had 
offered  her.  "Let  us  talk  sensibly,"  she  said.  "You 
called  me  Diana  to-night ;  and  perhaps  I  am  like  her. 


238  THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

So  far  I  have  cared  for  no  man,  but  when  I  do  I 
might  care  a  great  deal.  It  will  be  a  serious  business 
for  me,  I  assure  you." 

The  Duke  drew  back  a  step,  but  did  not  take  the 
chair. 

"If  I  stayed  here,"  went  on  Sally,  "in  a  month  you 
would  have  tired  of  me,  and  in  a  month  more  for- 
gotten me.  But  if  I  go  you  can  still  try  to  make  me 
care,  care  of  my  own  free  will,  and  turn  Diana  into 
a  different  creature.  Is  that  worth  the  winning?" 

"Egad,"  said  the  Duke,  "there  was  never  a  woman 
like  you !" 

"Then  if  I  stay,  I  scorn  you ;  but  if  I  go,  you  still 
have  a  chance  to  win  Diana.  Play  for  the  highest 
stakes,  like  a  true  gambler,  for  surely  the  stakes  are 
worth  the  risking." 

"Whether  you  come  with  love,"  he  said,  "or  with- 
out it?" 

She  managed  to  nod,  and  pulled  the  knot  of  her 
scarf  a  little  tighter. 

"It's  a  fool's  game,"  he  murmured, 

"It's  a  wise  man's,"  she  contradicted.  "Anyone 
can  play  the  fool,  and  be  sorry ;  but  a  man  like 
you — "  She  gestured  the  rest. 

The  Duke  caught  her  eye,  and  held  it.  "Egad,  it 
may  be  you  are  right,"  said  he,  kept  in  check  by 
her  steady  gaze.  "It  may  be  we  would  be  happier 
if  you  came  of  your  own  free  will — if  Diana  melted." 

"Much  happier,"  she  said,  "you  must  see  that." 


THE  SUPPER  AT  RICHMOND        239 

Then  very  deliberately  she  slipped  the  noose  of  her 
scarf  up  over  her  head,  and  tucked  her  hair  in  under 
it.  "You  shall  stay  here,  your  Grace,  and  think  it 
over ;  and  I  shall  say  good-night,"  she  added,  smiling. 
With  that  she  stepped  back  through  the  window- 
space,  and  out  on  to  the  terrace.  She  seemed  calm 
enough  then,  but  as  soon  as  she  gained  the  shelter  of 
the  bushes,  she  ran  like  a  frightened  child. 

The  stars  saw  Sally  slipping  from  the  villa,  a  vision 
of  white  and  silver.  She  had  spent  her  strength  in 
matching  wits  with  the  Duke,  and  in  keeping  her 
show  of  assurance;  her  native  courage  had  stood 
by  her,  but  she  had  no  wish  to  put  it  to  the  test 
again.  She  thought  the  Duke  might  follow  and  take 
her  back,  or  at  least  call  to  her  that  she  should  have 
his  coach  to  town,  and  so  she  ran  on  as  fast  as  she 
could,  holding  her  skirts  so  that  she  should  not  trip, 
and  hoping  that  she  might  find  some  refuge. 

The  open  gates  of  the  villa  let  the  girl  into  the 
highroad.  As  she  turned  townward  she  slackened 
her  pace,  for  now  she  was  almost  breathless.  Her 
scarf  had  caught  in  a  branch  and  been  pulled  back 
from  her  hair,  which  fell  disordered  on  her  shoulders. 
She  began  to  consider  the  situation ;  she  could  not 
hope  to  get  to  London  at  that  hour,  and  the  open 
road  was  no  place  for  a  woman  alone.  She  decided 
to  ask  for  shelter  at  the  first  lighted  cottage  she 
should  come  to. 

The  first  cottage  was  a  low  stone  house,  with  a 


240    THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

thatched  roof,  such  as  laborers  dwell  in.  A  small 
lighted  window  on  the  road  side  was  open,  and  un- 
curtained. She  looked  in,  and  saw  an  old  woman 
pouring  a  cup  of  tea. 

A  knock  at  the  door  brought  the  woman  to  it.  She 
opened  it,  and  saw  Sally,  lightly  gowned,  her  hair 
loose,  and  her  face  flushed.  "I'm  in  need  of  shelter," 
said  Sally.  "Will  you  let  me  stay  here  till  I  can  go 
to  town  at  dawn  ?" 

The  wrinkled  face  showed  solicitude.  "Come  in," 
said  the  dame,  "the  road's  no  place  for  a  lady." 

Safely  inside,  with  the  door  shut  behind  her,  Sally 
sank  down  on  a  chair.  "Dearie  me,"  said  the  woman, 
"you  must  have  this  dish  of  tea,"  and  she  handed 
Sally  her  cup. 

Sally  drank;  and  after  a  few  minutes  felt  some- 
what recovered.  Surer  now  of  her  ground,  she 
smiled.  "I've  missed  my  friends,"  she  said ;  "they've 
gone  to  town  without  me.  You  mustn't  put  yourself 
about  for  me.  I  only  want  a  corner  to  spend  the 
night  in." 

"We  be  two  here,"  said  the  dame.  "You  shall  have 
my  son's  room.  He've  just  come  in  a  moment  since." 
She  opened  a  door  at  the  rear  of  the  room,  and  called, 
"Wilyum,  there  be  a  lady  here!" 

In  answer  a  big  fellow,  just  turned  into  manhood, 
came  to  the  door.  He  looked  at  Sally,  stopped  a  mo- 
ment to  stare,  and  then  advanced,  magnetized  by 
the  sight  of  such  loveliness. 


THE  SUPPER  AT  RICHMOND 

"The  lady'll  have  your  room,  and  you'll  sleep  here, 
Wilyum,"  said  his  mother. 

"Aye,"  said  he,  staring  at  Sally's  hair,  "the  lady's 
welcome." 

"It's  most  kind  of  you,"  said  Sally,  "any  place 
would  do." 

The  woman  led  her  into  a  little  room  at  the  rear, 
which  she  started  to  tidy  up.  "Please  don't,"  said 
Sally.  "All  I  want  is  rest,  and  a  chair  would  do  for 
that."  So  she  urged  the  old  woman  to  leave  her; 
and  a  few  minutes  later  blew  out  the  rushlight  and 
lay  down  on  Wilyum's  pallet  bed.  But  the  thought 
of  her  battle  with  his  Grace  of  Chatto  kept  her  awake 
for  a  long  time. 

She  woke  to  the  crowing  of  roosters,  and  made  as 
good  a  toilet  as  she  could.  When  she  appeared  out- 
side she  found  the  dame  getting  breakfast.  Wilyum, 
who  was  drawing  water  at  a  well,  came  in  at  his 
mother's  summons,  and  the  three  sat  down  to  table. 
The  country  lad's  eyes  appeared  incapable  of  leaving 
Sally's  face. 

Inquiry  brought  the  information  that  a  coach 
ran  to  London  from  a  public-house  about  a  half-mile 
distant.  Sally  had  some  silver  in  a  little  purse  she 
always  carried,  safely  hidden.  Before  the  sun  had 
been  long  up  she  thanked  the  woman,  and  started  to 
thank  her  son.  "I  be  goin'  to  the  coach  wi'  you," 
asserted  Wilyum ;  and,  although  she  protested,  he 
would  not  budge  from  his  plan. 


THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

That  half-mile  walk  was,  beyond  question,  a  memo- 
rable event  to  Wilyum.  Good,  simple  soul  that  he 
was,  he  found  Sally's  smile  more  glorious  than  the 
sunshine,  her  eyes  and  hair  more  beautiful  than 
flowers,  and  her  voice  sweeter  than  running  water  or 
the  song  of  birds.  With  mouth  partly  open,  and 
eyes  and  ears  attentive,  he  plodded  by  her  side,  an 
humble  but  profound  worshiper.  Sally  could  not 
but  compare  Wilyum's  chivalric  devotion,  sincerity 
itself,  with  the  care  of  her  so  lately  shown  by  the 
wealthiest  nobleman  in  England. 

He  put  her  into  the  coach  for  town,  and  she,  look- 
ing out  at  the  open  window,  gave  him  her  hand. 
Wilyum,  his  uncovered  shock  of  hair  seeming  never 
to  have  known  a  comb,  let  Sally's  hand  rest  on  his 
large  palm,  while  he  gazed  at  it  as  if  it  were  a  pearl. 
Sally  gave  his  hand  a  squeeze,  which  brought  the 
blood  flooding  to  his  face.  "Good-by,  Wilyum," 
said  she,  "you're  a  dear,  kind  soul." 

Wilyum  stared  after  the  departing  coach  in  a 
singular  elation.  When  he  looked  down  at  the  hand 
she  had  pressed  he  wondered  at  it,  as  if  he  did  not 
recognize  it  for  his  own. 

It  was  a  thoughtful  woman  who  traveled  up  to 
town  by  that  coach.  She  had  learned  a  lesson,  and 
she  decided  that  she  would  never  play  with  fire  again. 

She  left  the  coach  in  Fleet  Street,  and  walked  to 
the  Lane.  As  she  turned  from  the  current  of  the 
high  street  into  the  quiet  backwater  she  heard  her- 


THE  SUPPER  AT  RICHMOND 

self  hailed,  and,  looking  about,  saw  Tom  Jellett  come 
hurrying  from  the  shop  where  he  worked  for  the 
butcher. 

"Sally,"  he  cried,  "you've  given  us  all  a  good 
fright !" 

She  felt  reassured  at  the  sight  of  him,  like  a 
storm-tossed  traveler  at  the  view  of  harbor.  But  she 
was  too  proud  to  tell  him  what  had  happened,  and 
she  feared  the  effect  of  it  on  Kate  and  Gilbert.  "I 
spent  the  night  with  friends  in  the  country,"  she 
said.  But  she  could  not  help  adding,  "Oh,  Tom, 
how  sweet  the  Lane  looks  now'" 

He  fell  into  step  at  her  side  as  she  walked  over 
the  rough  paving.  The  ill-assorted  houses,  mean  as 
they  were,  stretched  to  either  side  like  sheltering 
arms.  The  two  reached  Sally's  door,  and  she  leaned 
for  a  moment  against  the  wooden  panel. 

"There  be  so  many  perils  for  a  girl  like  you," 
said  Jellett,  gently,  as  if  echoing  her  thoughts. 
"Mightn't  you  be  happy  if  you  married  me?  I'm 
truer  than  the  folk  you  meet  with  at  the  theatre." 

"Yes,  you  are,  Tom,"  she  agreed,  letting  her  eyes 
rest  on  him.  For  a  moment  she  was  sorely  tempted 
to  say  yes,  to  feel  his  arms  about  her,  and  be  assured 
that  she  had  found  protection.  She  knew  that  it 
was  the  simple  folk,  like  Tom,  and  Kate,  and  Gilbert, 
and  Wilyum,  and  his  mother,  upon  whom  she  could 
most  safely  count.  She  had  tested  that  in  the  days 
of  the  plague. 


But  she  could  not  yield  only  to  a  man's  power  of 
protection;  she  needed  to  give  as  well  as  to  receive. 
She  turned  her  head  from  Jellett,  and  looked  in  the 
direction  of  Pump  Court.  "I'm  afraid  I  couldn't 
do  it,  Tom,"  she  said  very  gently. 

"Is  there  another  man?"  he  asked,  quietly. 

"I  don't  know,  Tom.  Sometimes  I  wonder — but 
I  don't  know.  I  must  wait.  I  can't  cheat  you — I 
can't  cheat  the  two  of  us — no  matter  how  I'm 
tempted." 

"It's  weary  business,  this  waiting." 

"But  we  must  wait,"  said  Sally,  shaking  her  head. 

"And  a  right  dangerous  business,  too,"  observed 
Jellett,  obstinately. 

"There  are  so  many  kinds  of  dangers,"  she  an- 
swered, "but  some  we  must  not  run  away  from." 

When  Tom  had  left,  she  still  stood  leaning  against 
the  door  for  some  minutes.  "So  dangerous — "  she 
whispered,  "but  we  can't  always  run  away — some  we 
must  face — if  we're  to  win  at  all." 

In  her  eyes  was  deep  reverie,  as  if  she  were  com- 
muning with  unaccustomed  thoughts.  And  in  fact 
she  was  seeing  her  world  in  the  light  of  new  expe- 
riences, such  as  were  changing  the  willful  girl  into 
the  patient  woman. 


xvin 

GROTE  GIVES  CHASE 

THE  Lane  was  in  midsummer,  when  something  of 
fragrance  and  glamour  contrives  to  steal  even 
into  the  crowded  heart  of  town.  Geraniums  did  well 
in  window-pots  then,  and  a  thrush,  if  one  had  the 
heart  to  imprison  him,  would  bring  a  bit  of  the 
sky  beneath  one's  roof.  Folks  thawed  in  the  fine 
weather;  even  Mistress  Kilgore,  sitting  on  a  bench 
beneath  her  window,  let  her  head  rest  against  her 
man's  shoulder,  and  pulled  his  arm  about  her  waist. 
Swains  sought  out  their  summer  affinities,  and 
promenaded,  arms  entwined,  through  the  darkening 
street.  To  be  sure,  one  couple  was  only  John,  the 
tanner's  boy,  with  little  Bess  Padstow,  the  maid  at 
the  Bear  and  Staff,  but  the  summer  night  was  theirs 
as  much  as  it  was  the  elegant  Count  D'Orsay*s  and 
Lady  Blessington's. 

Oliver  Pipe  sat  with  Grote  in  front  of  the  smithy, 
regarding  the  passers-by.  The  smith  still  felt  con- 
siderable awe  of  his  assistant,  but  the  awe  was  by 
now  tempered  with  a  strong  affection.  When  the 

landlord's  agent,  Talbot,  had  unaccountably  raised 

245 


246    THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

the  rent  on  Pipe's  house  and  shop,  Grote  had  insisted 
on  paying  the  extra  charge  for  him.  "He  did  it  be- 
cause I  was  surly,"  Grote  explained;  and  concluded 
the  matter  in  his  positive  manner.  But  it  was  little 
tricks  and  traits  of  Grote' s  gradually  showing  char- 
acter that  had  won  the  old  smith's  regard. 

"Conrad,"  said  Pipe,  as  they  sat  in  the  Court  that 
evening,  "the  mating  time's  here  again.  Have  ye 
never  seen  a  lass  ye  fancied  ?  Why  should  ye  sit  with 
an  old  man,  and  watch  the  others  pass,  lad  and  lass, 
man  and  woman,  through  the  Lane?" 

A  smile  stole  into  Grote's  eyes.  "Do  you  set  such 
a  high  value  on  this  mating?"  he  asked. 

"There's  nothing  like  it,"  Pipe  answered.  "Look 
yon — little  Bess  there's  more  to  John  than  all  the 
gold  of  Indy." 

Grote  watched  the  pair  as  they,  unconscious  of 
anything  but  each  other,  came  across  the  Court. 
"But  it's  a  ticklish  concern,"  he  observed.  "Now 
the  wise  man — " 

"Drat  your  wisdom !"  broke  in  Pipe.  "Leave  wis- 
dom to  the  fools !" 

"I  did  that  long  ago,"  said  Grote;  "and  have  to 
buy  it  back  now,  bit  by  bit." 

"You  .could  find  a  maid,"  said  the  smith,  ignoring 
this  remark.  "You're  not  such  an  ill-featured  fel- 
low, and  I've  seen  several  girls  loiter  by  the  door. 
You're  stiff  in  the  neck,  and  sometimes  monstrous 
full  of  pride;  but  that  can  be  overcome." 


GROTE  GIVES  CHASE  247 

"I'm  all  you  say,  stiff-necked  as  a  musket;  but 
I  think  I'm  learning." 

Yet,  notwithstanding  such  talks  as  this,  Grote 
kept  away  from  feminine  society.  When  Gilbert 
came  to  see  him  they  sat  outdoors  in  the  Court,  am- 
talked  of  history  and  travel  and  like  matters,  but 
never  of  human  affections.  Such  personal  subjects, 
it  appeared,  were  beyond  the  scope  of  either  man's 
speculations. 

Meanwhile  Sally,  having  clearly  in  mind  that 
night  at  Richmond,  was  now  very  circumspect.  Many 
a  summer  afternoon  she  spent  at  the  window  of  her 
own  house,  rather  than  run  the  risk  of  meeting  the 
Duke,  if  she  sought  Park  or  Gardens.  She  could 
not  avoid  him  altogether  at  the  theatre,  for  he  was 
too  great  a  man  to  be  denied  admission  behind  the 
scenes,  but  she  took  care  that  he  never  found  her 
alone,  nor  succeeded  in  driving  her  companions  away. 
When  she  left  the  theatre  she  always  sought  the 
company  of  some  fellow-player  who  went  her  way, 
and  tried  to  make  sure  that  the  Duke  was  not  in  the 
neighborhood. 

Chatto,  however,  constantly  sent  her  notes,  fas- 
tened to  the  handles  of  magnificent  bouquets.  "You 
are  not  playing  the  game  fair  with  me,  Diana,"  one 
note  read;  "how  can  I  sue  to  a  goddess  I  never  see?" 
And  another  upbraided  her  for  spurning  such  devo- 
tion as  he  offered.  "I  would  never  have  dreamed  it 
possible,"  he  wrote,  "that  beauty  could  be  so  made 


248    THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

of  ice,  or  woman  so  torture  a  man  as  thought  of  you 
does  me."  Sally  tore  up  the  notes,  and  gave  the 
flowers  to  the  wardrobe  mistress. 

She  thought  the  Duke's  ardor  must  have  cooled 
after  a  month  of  this  treatment,  and  breathed  a  little 
freer.  She  heard  that  he  had  gone  to  the  country, 
and  for  several  nights  she  went  only  part  way  home 
from  Dmry  Lane  with  a  friend,  and  the  rest  of  the 
way  alone.  Then,  one  evening,  as  she  was  nearing 
the  head  of  Pump  Lane,  she  met  Talbot,  the  land- 
lord's agent,  in  the  high  street.  "Good  evening, 
Mistress  Temple,"  said  he,  with  a  sweep  of  his 
hat.  "Good  even,"  she  answered  civilly ;  and  would 
have  passed,  but  he  barred  the  way,  asking  some 
questions. 

There  were  few  people  about  at  the  moment.  A  lad 
sat  on  a  nearby  doorstep.  A  coach  came  lumbering 
down  the  ill-lighted  road.  Talbot  asked  about  some 
repairs  to  Kate's  house.  The  coach  stopped,  its 
door  opened,  and  two  men  stepped  out  into  the  dark 
street.  Before  Sally  knew  what  was  happening  a 
cloak  was  thrown  over  her  head,  her  cry  was  muffled 
in  it,  and  she  was  carried  struggling  to  the  coach- 
door.  The  lad  jumped  up  with  a  yell;  but  already 
the  coach  was  speeding  into  the  darkness.  On  the 
paving-stones  lay  a  little  handbag  of  blue  satin. 

Such  affairs  had  been  known  to  happen  in  London 
before,  and  prudence  would  have  dictated  a  discreet 
shrug  of  the  shoulders,  and  a  few  mumbled  impreca- 


GROTE  GIVES  CHASE  249 

tions  on  the  part  of  a  single  eye-witness.  This  ob- 
server, however,  was  too  much  thrilled  and  enrap- 
tured to  think  of  prudence.  He  had  heard  of  the 
mad  pranks  of  young  blades  known  as  Mohocks,  who 
were  little  less  than  pirates  of  the  town ;  and  he  felt 
a  compelling  interest  in  the  affairs  of  all  pirates. 
He  snatched  up  the  little  handbag,  and  ran  with  it 
to  the  flickering  lamp  that  was  still  burning  before 
the  butcher's  shop. 

The  boy  opened  the  bag,  and  drew  out  a  small 
handkerchief,  two  shillings,  a  threepence,  and  three 
pennies,  a  packet  of  pins,  and  a  piece  of  paper.  The 
paper  had  some  writing  on  it,  but  the  lad  was  no 
scholar. 

Inside  the  shop  a  big  man  was  cleaning  up  for  the 
night.  The  lad  knew  the  man  was  the  Byberry  Boy, 
who  had  knocked  out  the  famous  Bombardier  at 
Shrewsbury  Fair,  and  he  had  even  heard  the  hero 
recount  the  story  of  that  surpassing  triumph.  Stick- 
ing the  handbag  into  the  breast  of  his  jacket,  he 
marched  into  the  shop.  "Please,  Mr.  Jellett,  can 
you  tell  me  what  that  says  ?"  he  asked,  thrusting  out 
the  scrap  of  paper. 

Jellett  studied  the  writing.  "It  says  'Sally 
Temple :  her  bag,'  "  said  he.  "What  be  it  doing 
here?" 

The  boy  shook  his  head,  and  considered  the  paper 
doubtfully.  "It  don't  say  where  she  lives?"  he 
queried. 


250     THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

"No ;  but  I  can  tell  you  where  she  lives,"  said  Jel- 
lett.  "The  seventh  house  down  Pump  Lane,  to  the 
right." 

"Thank  you,"  said  the  boy,  and  left  the  butcher's 
shop. 

So  near  Tom  Jellett  came  to  tracking  the  coach 
through  the  night. 

The  boy  went  down  Pump  Lane  to  the  seventh 
house  on  the  right.  The  night  was  warm,  and  the 
lower  windows  here  were  open.  He  saw  a  man  read- 
ing by  a  candle,  and  called  softly  to  him.  "See  what 
I've  found,"  he  said,  drawing  the  little  bag  from  his 
jacket. 

Gilbert  Stanes,  who  sometimes  sat  up  for  Sally  on 
summer  evenings,  came  over  to  the  window.  "What's 
that?"  he  said,  leaning  on  the  sill. 

"Sally  Temple:  her  bag,"  repeated  the  boy,  and 
thrust  the  bag  forward,  perhaps  from  honesty,  per- 
haps from  a  desire  to  have  a  hand  in  the  night's  ad- 
venture. 

Gilbert  took  the  bag,  and  looked  at  it.  "Yes,  it's 
Sally's,"  he  agreed.  "How'd  you  come  by  it?" 

The  lad  hesitated  a  second,  and  then  said  rapidly, 
"I  was  sitting  in  the  door,  an'  she  come  by,  an'  a  man 
was  talking  to  her,  an*  a  coach  come  up,  an'  two 
men  got  out,  an'  they  caught  her  up,  an'  they  put  her 
in  the  coach,  an'  it  drove  away,  an'  I  found  the  bag 
with  the  paper  in  it." 

"What's  that?"  cried  Gilbert     The  boy  started 


GROTE  GIVES  CHASE  251 

again ;  but  Gilbert  stopped  him.  "Never  mind  that," 
said  he;  "which  way  did  they  go?" 

The  boy  pointed  vaguely  to  the  west. 

Gilbert  seized  his  crutch,  and  hobbled  into  the 
Lane.  "What  shall  I  do?  What  shall  I  do?"  he 
muttered.  "Something  quick." 

He  glanced  up  and  down  the  deserted  street,  and 
then,  without  a  word  to  the  wondering  boy,  started  as 
fast  as  he  could  go  toward  Pump  Court. 

The  harness  shop  and  the  smithy  were  dark,  but 
Gilbert  beat  on  the  door  with  his  crutch.  Presently 
a  head  appeared  from  a  window  under  the  eaves. 
"What  do  you  want?"  demanded  Oliver  Pipe's  voice. 

"Call  Conrad !"  entreated  Gilbert.  "It's  I,  Gilbert 
Stanes." 

The  head  disappeared,  and  shortly  after  the  door 
of  the  smithy  opened,  and  Grote  stepped  out.  Be- 
hind him  peered  the  smith. 

"Sally's  gone!"  cried  Gilbert.  "Some  villains 
caught  her  up,  and  took  her  off  in  a  coach.  It  went 
to  the  west.  Think  for  me,  Conrad,  think !" 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  Grote;  "let  me  see." 

"Save  Sally,  Conrad;  save  her,"  Gilbert  begged. 

"You  don't  know  who  the  men  were?" 

"No;  some  of  the  beasts  who  hunt  our  women — 
oh,  help  Sally,  Conrad!" 

Grote's  hand  caught  Gilbert's  arm.  "I'll  bring 
her  back,"  he  assured  the  cripple,  and  ran  up  the 
dark  Lane. 


252     THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

When  he  came  into  the  high  street  Grote's  pace 
slackened,  for  he  had  much  thinking  to  do.  The 
town  lay  all  about  him,  a  vast  cobweb  of  streets  and 
alleys,  through  which  it  was,  of  course,  quite  impos- 
sible for  him  to  trace  a  coach.  He  must  attack  the 
problem  from  the  other  end. 

By  the  time  he  reached  the  Strand  he  had  hit  on  a 
plan.  He  kept  on  westward  through  streets  that 
began  to  show  more  lights,  and  where  more  people 
were  abroad.  Presently  he  encountered  two  young 
macaronis  strolling  from  the  opposite  direction.  He 
stopped  before  them.  "I  ask  your  pardon,"  he  said, 
"but  could  you  direct  me  to  the  Cocoa  Tree?" 

The  two  dandies  halted,  and  examined  him  nar- 
rowly. 

"The  Cocoa  Tree,"  drawled  one,  "is  down  the  next 
corner,  turn  to  the  left  and  a  dozen  paces."  "With 
four  little  windows  in  the  front,  and  a  devilish  big 
door,"  added  the  other. 

"You'd  best  stop  away  from  it,"  warned  the  first, 
"that's  a  good  bit  of  advice  for  you."  "Wish  we'd 
taken  the  advice  ourselves,  don't  we,  George?"  put  in 
his  friend,  as  they  walked  on. 

Grote  followed  their  directions,  and  found  the  big 
door,  and  the  row  of  little  windows.  The  latter  were 
all  lighted,  and  the  door  stood  open  to  the  summer 
warmth.  He  entered,  to  be  stopped  by  a  footman, 
who  demanded  his  business.  "Is  the  Earl  of  Dorset 
here?"  asked  Grote. 


GROTE  GIVES  CHASE  253 

"His  Lordship  is  in  the  country,"  answered  the 
lackey. 

"Is  Sir  John  Gorham  here?"  pursued  Grote. 

"Sir  John  left  an  hour  ago." 

"His  town  address,  then?"  Grote's  tone  was  im- 
perative. 

"I  don't  know  it,"  said  the  footman. 

To  his  vast  surprise  the  stranger  strode  past  him, 
and  into  the  card-room  on  the  right. 

Half-a-dozen  gentlemen  sat  at  play  there.  At 
Grote's  entrance  some  looked  up,  and  one,  who  held 
a  pack  of  cards,  checked  his  dealing  to  stare  at  the 
tall,  dark  man. 

"I  ask  your  pardon,"  said  Grote,  "but  I  must  find 
Sir  John  Gorham  at  once.  Can  any  of  you  tell  me 
where  he  lives?" 

"In  Jermyn  Street,  number  twelve,"  said  one. 
"What's  amiss  with  Jack?" 

Grote  did  not  stop  to  answer.  He  hurried  out  of 
the  Cocoa  Tree,  and  headed  for  Jermyn  Street. 

The  master  of  number  twelve  had  not  yet  gone  to 
bed  when  there  came  a  sharp  rapping  at  his  outer 
door.  He  was  reclining  in  one  luxurious  chair,  with 
his  feet  overhanging  another,  and  reading  the  first 
volume  of  the  popular  novel  "The  History  of  Clarissa 
Harlowe."  His  man  informed  him  that  a  stranger 
desired  a  few  words  with  him,  and  the  amiable  baro- 
net ordered  the  stranger  admitted. 

Sir  John  looked  up  at  the  tall,  spare,  black-haired 


254    THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

man,  dressed  in  sober  brown  of  the  quality  worn  by 
artisans  and  tradesmen,  who  entered  his  sitting-room. 
Something  in  his  visitor's  searching  eyes  puzzled  him, 
but  the  man  gave  him  small  time  for  reflection. 

"My  errand  will  doubtless  seem  very  odd  to  you, 
Sir  John,"  said  the  stranger.  "But  it's  very  serious 
to  me,  and  to  some  others." 

"Sit  down,"  invited  Sir  John,  wondering  what 
the  man  could  be  coming  to. 

The  other  ignored  the  invitation.  "This  is  it," 
said  he.  "You  are  acquainted  with  Mistress  Sally 
Temple." 

Sir  John  smiled,  a  trifle  evasively,  as  if  unwilling 
to  commit  himself  too  far.  "I  have  the  honor  of  an 
acquaintance  with  her,"  he  admitted. 

"You  also  know  the  gossip  of  town,"  continued 
the  visitor.  "Tell  me,  who  is  the  man  who  is  pur- 
suing Mistress  Temple?" 

"Who  are  you?"  said  Sir  John,  removing  his  feet 
from  the  chair,  and  sitting  up  straighter. 

"A  man  who  lives  in  Pump  Lane,  and  who  is  a 
friend  of  hers." 

"And  more  than  that,  perhaps?"  suggested  Sir 
John,  hoping  to  draw  the  stranger  out. 

The  man  scowled.  "A  friend,  I  said,"  he  asserted, 
in  a  tone  that  was  scarcely  usual  from  an  artisan  to 
a  baronet. 

"Why  should  I  answer  your  questions?"  inquired 
Sir  John. 


GROTE  GIVES  CHASE  255 

"Because — "  the  other  began  brusquely ;  and  then 
checked  himself.  "Because  Mistress  Temple  is  in 
danger." 

"Danger!"  exclaimed  Sir  John.  "What  do  you 
mean  ?" 

"Who  is  pursuing  her?"  demanded  the  visitor,  ig- 
noring the  question. 

"Why,  who  but  the  Devil's  own  Duke  of  Chatto, 
the  old  Red  Fox.  That's  what  people  say." 

"The  Duke  of  Chatto!"  cried  the  stranger,  his 
eyes  swiftly  ablaze.  "Where  does  he  live?" 

"In  Chatto  House,  on  Hyde  Park  Terrace.  But 
what  are  you  thinking  of,  man  ?" 

"Of  catching  his  neck  in  my  two  hands." 

"You  fool!  He's  the  richest  noble  in  England, 
and  you're  a  workingman !" 

The  other  man's  eyes  were  wicked.  "But  we'll  be 
man  to  man  when  we  meet,"  said  he ;  "noble  or  not !" 
He  looked  as  if  he  reveled  in  the  prospect.  "My 
thanks  are  yours,  Sir  John."  With  that  he  was  out 
of  the  room,  and  out  of  the  house. 

Sir  John  stood  up  and  paced  the  floor,  quizzing 
his  memory.  Presently  an  idea  flashed  upon  him, 
and  he  stopped.  "I  have  it,  I  have  it!"  he  cried 
eagerly.  "That  brow,  those  eyes,  that  voice!  The 
masterful  man !  I  remember  how  he  praised  my  news 
of  Hawkins,  the  prize-fighter.  What  was  it? — 
*Blood  and  brawn!' — that's  it.  And  the  wonderful 
fight  at  Chantrey !  The  raging  devil — he  looked  the 


256     THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

same  way  now!  So  he  followed  her  to  Pump  Lane, 
and  turned  workman!"  Sir  John  folded  his  arms, 
and  considered.  "For  love  of  pretty  Sally,  pretty 
Sally  Temple.  Damme,  he  is  a  man,  after  all !  And 
he'll  win  her  yet  with  his  dogged  persistence !  That's 
the  real  thing  for  you ;  how  few  of  us  have  the  sense 
to  see  it."  He  walked  to  the  window,  frowning. 
"He'll  go  straight  for  Chatto !  What  a  meeting  that 
will  be !  Someone's  going  to  have  a  most  unpleasant 
time  of  it ;  and  I  should  say  that  the  odds  were  all  in 
favor  of  that  someone  being  Chatto!" 


XIX 

A  NIGHT'S  EVENTS  IN  A  GREAT  HOUSE 

VIRTUE  and  vice  were  sleeping  to  either  side  of 
him  as  Conrad  Grote  shot  comet-wise  through 
the  warm  summer  night.  He  took  no  time  for  reck- 
oning nor  for  planning;  he  threw  all  consideration 
from  him  as  thoughtlessly  as  a  runner  would  fling  off 
a  cloak  that  slowed  his  speed.  He  was  afire  with 
the  desire  for  action,  and  all  his  energies  and  all  his 
passions  were  but  fuel  to  that  fire.  Petty  matters 
such  as  the  detaining  hand  of  the  night-watch,  or  the 
accosting  voice  of  a  woman,  would  have  whistled  past 
him  like  the  wind. 

Vice  and  virtue  lay  abed,  while  Grote  possessed 
the  night.  The  hour  was  like  some  climax  his  life 
had  been  leading  to,  the  great  adventure  that  lured 
and  beckoned  and  was  forever  dancing  on  ahead.  A 
wild  joy  throbbed  in  his  veins,  and  sang  in  his  ears. 
He  sprang  on,  trusting  to  an  early  knowledge  of 
London  to  guide  him  to  the  house  he  sought. 

He  knew  the  mansion  on  Hyde  Park  Terrace  by 
its  vast  and  pompous  portico.  Struck  by  the  inso- 
lence of  its  great  columns,  he  beat  upon  the  door  as 

257 


258     THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

if  he  were  disfiguring  a  haughty  face.  Again  and 
again  he  pounded.  At  last  the  door  was  opened  by  a 
footman  in  a  great  powdered  wig,  who  peered  out  at 
him  from  a  dimly-lighted  hall. 

"I  must  see  his  Grace,  instanter,"  declared  Grote, 
"on  most  urgent  business." 

"His  Grace  is  occupied,"  answered  the  footman. 

"This  news  will  not  wait,"  said  Grote.  "He  will 
be  glad  to  see  me." 

"I  might  take  your  name  to  him,"  temporized  the 
footman,  impressed  by  Grote's  peremptory  manner. 

"He  would  not  want  you  to  know  it,"  was  the 
quick  reply.  "My  business  is  of  a  very  secret  nature. 
It  concerns  a  lady." 

The  footman  knew  that  his  master  was  continu- 
ally seriously  interested  in  that  sex,  and  that  such 
affairs  were  naturally  very  private.  "Wait  here  a 
moment,"  he  said,  "while  I  speak  to  Hubert;"  and 
hurried  away  in  the  direction  of  the  steward's  offices. 

As  soon  as  the  footman  was  out  of  sight  Grote 
crossed  the  hall  to  the  great  marble  staircase.  He 
climbed  its  height,  and  found  himself  in  a  gallery. 
Many  doors  gave  on  to  this,  some  shut,  and  some 
standing  wide.  He  opened  each  door  and  looked  in ; 
the  rooms  were  either  dark,  or,  if  lighted,  unoccu- 
pied. But  as  he  turned  the  knob  of  the  last  door 'on 
the  right  side  of  the  gallery  he  caught  the  sound  of 
a  voice,  and  smiled,  and  nodded  to  himself. 

He  pushed  this  door  open  very  gently,  and  stepped 


A    NIGHT'S    EVENTS  259 

into  a  spacious  chamber.  The  carpet  was  of  a  thick 
pile,  and  hid  his  footsteps.  He  shut  the  door,  and 
turned  the  key  in  the  lock. 

A  long  mahogany  table  at  the  farther  end  of  the 
apartment  bore  four  massive  candlesticks,  and  the 
candles  lighted  a  little  scene  there,  leaving  the  rest 
of  the  great  room  in  comparative  darkness.  At  one 
side  of  the  table  stood  Sally,  every  line  of  her  face 
and  figure  showing  furious  anger,  while  a  few  feet 
beyond  her,  his  arms  akimbo,  stood  the  Duke  of 
Chatto.  It  was  his  voice  that  Grote  had  heard.  Sud- 
denly Chatto  broke  off  abruptly,  and  glared  across 
the  room. 

"What's  this?"  he  cried  savagely.  "Get  out  of 
here!" 

For  answer  Grote  walked  to  the  nearer  side  of 
the  long  table,  his  black  eyes,  very  bright,  never 
shifting  from  Chatto's  face. 

The  owner  of  the  house  stamped  his  foot,  and 
scowled  with  rage.  "Get  out  of  here,  I  tell  you !"  he 
thundered.  "What  fool  let  you  into  my  rooms? 
What  do  you  want?" 

The  candles  showed  the  red  countenance  of  Chatto, 
and  his  brilliant  blue  and  silver  coat,  and  across  the 
table  lighted  the  dull  brown  jacket  of  Grote  and  his 
dark,  threatening  face. 

"I  have  come  for  Mistress  Temple,"  said  Grote. 
"I  mean  to  take  her  home." 

Chatto's  face  grew  purplish,  and  his  small  eyes 


260     THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

blinked  rapidly  as  he  leaned  on  the  table  with  both 
fists  and  stared  at  the  other  man. 

"Where  have  I  seen  you  before?"  he  demanded. 

"At  the  smithy  in  Pump  Lane.  I'm  a  neighbor  of 
Mistress  Temple." 

"That  was  it;  I  remember  your  ugly  face.  Now 
get  out  of  here  before  I  have  you  thrown  out!" 

Grote's  hands  took  a  tighter  grip  on  his  leather 
belt,  but  he  kept  his  temper.  "I  will  go  when  Mis- 
tress Temple  goes,"  said  he ;  "and  she  is  ready  to  go 
now." 

"She  is  not  ready  to  go!"  cried  Chatto.  "She  is 
my  guest,  and  will  stay  here  in  my  house.  What  do 
you  want?  Money?  Or  cheaper  rent  for  your 
smithy?  I'll  have  you  turned  out  for  this  night's 
work.  Get  away,  before  I  promise  to  whip  you  out  of 
London !" 

Sally's  eyes,  unnaturally  large  in  her  white  face, 
were  fixed  on  Grote. 

"Promise  whatever  you  like,"  said  Grote.  "I'm 
not  thinking  of  to-morrow.  We  are  two  men  here, 
and  I've  come  to  take  this  woman  home  with  me." 

Sally  started  forward;  but  Chatto  caught  her  by 
the  wrist.  "Stay  where  you  are,"  he  snarled.  He 
glared  again  at  Grote.  "If  you're  in  love  with  her," 
he  went  on,  "I'll  buy  you  off.  I'll  pay  you  well  for 
her.  Mistress  Temple  will  be  better  off  with  me,  she 
shall  have  whatever  she  wants."  He  tried  to  appear 
conciliatory.  "There,  that's  best  for  us  all.  She 


A    NIGHT'S    EVENTS  261 

and  I  were  coming  to  an  agreement  when  you  broke 
in." 

"Oh,  don't  believe  him !"  cried  Sally ;  and  with  an 
effort  she  wrenched  her  arm  free  from  Chatto's 
grasp.  "He  knows  how  I  hate  him!  He  had  me 
bound  and  brought  here!" 

"There's  her  answer,"  said  Grote,  his  eyes  glint- 
ing as  he  faced  the  Duke.  "By  rights  it  should  be 
driven  down  your  throat,  but  that  takes  time.  Come, 
Mistress  Temple,  we'll  be  going."  He  stepped  to- 
ward her,  holding  out  his  hand. 

"You  cub  of  Satan !"  roared  Chatto.  "She  shall 
stay,  and  you  shall  go !  A  mean  smith  to  beard 
me  in  my  own  house !  I'll  have  you  thrown  from  the 
window!"  He  stretched  out  his  hand  to  a  bell-rope 
that  hung  at  the  side  of  the  chimney-breast  behind 
him,  and  gave  it  a  great  pull. 

At  the  same  instant  Grote  wheeled  about,  and 
leaned  across  the  table  that  separated  them.  "Rouse 
your  men !"  he  cried.  "For,  by  Heaven !  you'll  need 
them !"  and  he  caught  Chatto's  cheek  a  blow  with  his 
right  hand. 

The  Duke  bellowed  with  rage,  and  seized  one  of 
the  great  bronze  candlesticks  in  both  hands.  He 
swung  it  high  over  his  head,  and  then  hurled  it  at 
Grote,  who  dodged  in  the  nick  of  time.  The  candle- 
stick fell  with  a  heavy  thud  upon  the  floor. 

Sally  had  jumped  back  from  the  table,  and  now 
Grote,  catching  hold  of  one  end  of  the  mahogany, 


262     THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

behind  which  the  Duke  was  partly  sheltered,  gave  it 
a  great  shove  so  that  the  remaining  candlesticks  fell 
this  way  and  that.  One  candle  still  burned  on  the 
floor,  and  Sally  snatched  it  from  the  holder  and  held 
it  so  that  Grote  might  see. 

"Help!"  roared  Chatto,  and  pulled  a  knife  from 
under  his  coat.  He  struck  out  wildly  with  it,  but 
Grote  jumped  to  one  side,  and  as  the  other  called  and 
jabbed  he  ran  in  and  caught  the  Duke's  arms  and 
pinned  them  to  his  side  and  threw  him  to  the  floor. 
They  fell  together,  Grote  on  top.  They  lay  between 
the  table  and  the  fireplace,  thrashing  on  the  carpet 
,  that  partly  broke  their  fall.  Chatto  gave  a  great 
heave  of  shoulders  and  body,  and  his  hands  clutched 
at  the  back  of  Grote's  jacket.  But  Grote  tightened 
his  hold,  and  then  with  a  sudden  jerk  wrenched  his 
arms  free  and  caught  the  Duke's  throat  in  his 
fingers.  He  shook  the  man's  head  against  the  floor, 
his  fingers  gripped  the  man's  throat,  he  twisted 
Chatto  from  side  to  side  and  then  flung  his  head 
down  again  and  fairly  crushed  the  breath  out  of  his 
body.  Chatto  lay  still,  and  Grote  got  to  his  feet, 
shaking  with  his  fury. 

There  were  blows  on  the  door,  and  a  hubbub  of 
voices  outside.  Grote  looked  at  Sally,  who  still  stood 
with  the  candle  in  her  trembling  hand.  "Put  that 
out,"  he  said,  "and  stand  close  to  that  wall  yonder. 
When  you  see  your  chance  slip  out  through  the 
door." 


A     NIGHT'S   EVENTS  263 

"But  you — "  she  began. 

"I  can  fight  a  hundred.    Do  as  I  say." 

She  blew  out  the  candle,  and  ran  to  the  place  he 
had  pointed  out  to  her. 

Grote  stepped  to  the  other  side  of  the  table  and 
picked  up  one  of  the  heavy  bronze  candlesticks.  The 
door  was  breaking  now  under  the  blows  of  an  axe; 
it  crashed  in,  and  there  was  a  rush  of  men  armed 
with  swords  and  billets. 

"Where  is  your  Grace?"  cried  one.  *'Whafs 
happened?"  called  another. 

"His  Grace  is  over  here  by  the  hearth,"  said 
Grote.  "He  needs  you  badly." 

In  the  light  from  the  hall  they  saw  only  one  man 
before  them,  and  came  toward  him.  Grote  saw  Sally 
slip  out  through  the  doorway,  and  he  clutched  the 
candlestick  tighter  and  stepped  forward. 

"His  Grace  is  there  on  the  floor,"  said  he.  "Go 
look  to  him !" 

But  now  they  understood,  and  with  angry  cries 
turned  on  Grote.  A  pistol  cracked,  the  shot  flew  by 
him ;  then  the  pack  was  on  him,  eager  to  pull  him 
down. 

Grote  swung  the  candlestick  like  a  mace,  heavy  end 
up,  and  brought  it  down  on  one  man's  head.  He  fell 
like  a  log.  With  oaths  and  yells  the  others  closed 
in,  striking  and  thrusting  and  battering  at  their 
single  enemy.  He  was  struck  on  the  shoulder  and 
the  arm,  a  blow  at  his  leg  almost  tumbled  him.  Still 


264     THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

he  gritted  his  teeth  and  swung  the  candlestick,  fight- 
ing his  way  forward  to  the  door. 

A  mace  is  a  terrible  weapon,  wielded  by  a  des- 
perate man,  and  the  candlestick  was  terrible  in  the 
hands  of  Grote.  But  the  men  struck  at  his  knees  and 
legs  and  some  of  their  blows  reached  him  and  made 
him  stagger  and  bend.  Yet  though  he  staggered, 
and  could  scarcely  see  because  the  blood  from  a  cut  on 
his  forehead  got  into  his  eyes,  and  his  breath  was 
short,  and  his  head  spinning,  he  crashed  onward,  beat- 
ing and  knocking  and  felling  his  enemies  with  every 
blow  of  his  bronze  stick.  Up  and  down  it  raged, 
and  they  fell  back,  and  cursed,  and  tried  to  run  in 
under  it.  So,  stumbling  and  panting  and  thrashing 
like  a  windmill  in  a  gale,  he  gained  the  door  at  last, 
still  on  his  feet. 

He  heard  the  yells  of  rage  behind  him,  he  steadied 
himself,  and,  still  clutching  the  candlestick,  ran  down 
the  hall.  He  caught  at  the  marble  balustrade  of  the 
great  staircase  and  plunged  down  the  steps.  He 
dashed  across  the  hall,  and  wrenching  at  the  door, 
pulled  it  open.  A  figure  that  had  been  watching  in 
the  shadows  of  a  corner  of  the  hall  followed,  pulled 
the  door  shut  after  her,  turned  the  key  she  held,  and 
flung  it  away.  Then  she  too  ran  out  wildly  from 
the  great  columns  of  Chatto  House  on  to  the  starlit 
terrace. 

Stopping  a  second  to  look  and  listen,  the  woman 
thought  she  saw  a  figure  swaying  along  the  roadway 


A    NIGHT'S    EVENTS  265 

to  the  left  and  heard  steps  in  that  direction.  She 
hurried  after  the  vision,  tripped  and  nearly  fell  over 
stones  that  had  been  left  to  guard  a  hole,  and  when 
she  looked  again  found  that  the  figure  she  sought  had 
disappeared.  With  a  little  cry  of  distress  she  ran  on, 
passed  by  the  portico  of  another  noble  mansion,  felt 
her  feet  on  the  soft  grass  of  a  lawn,  and  saw  a  tree 
standing  sentinel-like  before  her.  She  stopped;  un- 
der the  tree  lay  a  man,  a  sprawling  figure.  She 
stooped,  and,  recognizing  him  in  the  dim  starlight, 
sank  down  on  her  knees  beside  him. 

"Conrad,"  she  murmured,  "oh,  my  dear  Conrad!" 
He  opened  his  eyes,  and  she  bent  lower  over  his  white 
face.  "Where  are  you  hurt  most?"  she  whispered. 

He  shut  his  eyes  and  turned  his  head  a  little  side- 
ways. It  seemed  that  he  was  hurt  everywhere,  a  cut 
on  his  brow  was  bleeding,  his  torn  coat  showed  a 
bloody  shoulder,  and  one  outstretched  arm  was 
doubled  as  with  pain. 

She  sat  back  on  bent  knees,  seeing  him  as  he  had 
come  plunging  down  the  stairs  and  through  the  hall, 
as  he  must  have  come  whirling  through  the  Duke's 
men,  his  face  desperate,  the  bronze  weapon  swinging 
in  his  hand.  She  saw  that  his  fingers  still  clung  to 
the  candlestick  lying  by  him. 

Then  she  thought  she  heard  a  noise  in  the  road 
to  the  right,  and  crouched,  scarcely  daring  to 
breathe.  But  the  noise  stayed  some  distance  off ;  and 
she  bent  again  over  Grote  and  brushed  his  black  hair 


266     THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

gently  back  from  the  cut  on  his  forehead,  and  tore 
a  piece  of  muslin  from  the  sleeve  of  her  gown  and 
put  it  over  the  wound  to  stanch  the  blood.  So  close 
to  him  the  stars  showed  her  each  line  of  the  face 
she  knew  so  well,  had  seen  in  so  many  widely  differing 
places ;  she  looked  at  the  scar  that  crossed  his  upper 
lip,  and  leaned  still  closer  to  him.  "It's  I,  Sally 
Temple,"  she  whispered.  "I'm  here  with  you.  Open 
your  eyes  a  moment." 

He  obeyed  her  voice,  and  looked  up  at  her. 

"We're  safe  now,"  she  whispered,  "but  I  must 
leave  you  to  get  help.  I  won't  be  long  about  it.  Do 
you  understand?" 

"Yes,"  he  answered. 

She  hovered  above  him,  loath  to  leave  him.  She 
eased  his  battered  shoulder.  Then  she  stood  up,  and 
stepping  out  into  the  road  looked  both  ways.  The 
night  was  quiet  now;  even  Chatto  House  in  the 
distance  seemed  undisturbed  and  still. 

She  had  spoken  hopefully  of  getting  help,  but  she 
knew  that  would  be  a  difficult  matter  in  such  a  place 
at  such  an  hour  of  night.  Yet  the  two  of  them 
must  not  be  found  there  at  dawn,  and  dawn  was  not 
very  far  distant.  She  went  down  the  road,  silent 
now  save  for  her  own  footsteps,  which  sounded  ap- 
pallingly loud.  It  seemed  to  her  that  London  must 
be  deserted,  for  she  turned  one  corner  after  another 
without  meeting  anyone. 

Presently  she  saw  a  man  shambling  along  on  the 


A    NIGHT'S    EVENTS  267 

opposite  side  of  the  way.  He  looked  like  a  derelict, 
fitter  to  ask  aid  than  to  give  it,  and  she  let  him  pass 
without  a  word.  She  was  not  frightened  at  him ;  she 
had  experienced  too  much  that  night  to  be  frightened 
by  any  vagrant  of  the  streets. 

Next  she  found  two  women,  walking  rapidly  and 
arm  in  arm,  as  if  for  safety.  They  could  give  no 
help,  and  she  let  them  hurry  by,  unheeding  the  curious 
glances  they  leveled  at  her.  Then,  rounding  a  cor- 
ner, she  caught  the  sound  of  wheels,  and  ran  in  that 
direction.  She  came  up  with  a  cart,  jogging  along 
under  the  guidance  of  a  man  who  swayed  about  on 
the  seat  as  though  half  drunk  with  sleep. 

The  cart-driver  found  himself  hailed  by  a  woman's 
voice,  and  pulled  up  and  looked  about.  The  woman 
ran  up  to  him.  "I  need  help  badly,"  she  said;  "a 
man's  been  hurt  and  lies  bleeding ;  I'll  pay  you  well  if 
you'll  fetch  him  home.  Please,  for  mercy's  sake! 
I'll  pay  you  well." 

"What'll  you  pay?"  asked  the  driver. 

"Eight,  ten  shillings — to  take  him  to  Pump  Lane." 

"Say  twelve,  and  I'll  do  it,"  said  the  driver,  his 
cupidity  roused. 

"Twelve  shillings,  then — only  hurry!"  and  the 
woman  jumped  to  the  hub  and  then  to  the  wheel,  and 
into  the  cart  before  the  man  could  think  what  she 
was  doing. 

"This  way,"  she  said,  laying  her  hands  on  the 
reins. 


268     THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

"Sit  still,"  he  ordered,  "and  mind  that  board  you 
sit  on.  It  rocks  about  when  the  nag  goes  fast." 

She  pointed  him  out  the  turnings,  continually 
urging  him  to  greater  speed.  "Easy  now,  easy,"  he 
kept  admonishing  her.  "The  beast  be  like  to  stumble 
in  the  dark."  So  they  jogged  on  by  the  way  she  had 
come,  and  finally  stopped  before  the  tree  where  she 
had  left  Grote.  "You'll  have  to  help  me  lift  him  up," 
she  said,  and  slipped  down  and  ran  to  the  tree. 

Grote  lay  there,  and  she  bent  ever  him,  whisper- 
ing. "Here's  help  at  last,"  she  said.  "Oh,  can  you 
move  a  little?  We  must  get  you  to  the  cart."  Very 
carefully  she  lifted  him  until  he  was  leaning  against 
her  knee.  His  eyes  were  wide  open,  and  he  managed 
a  faint  smile.  "Wait,"  he  said,  "there — "  and  he 
pulled  himself  up  straighter. 

With  the  aid  of  the  driver  Sally  helped  Grote  to 
his  feet,  and  one  on  either  side  they  got  him  to  the 
cart.  The  driver  found  some  empty  gunny-sacks 
for  him  to  lie  on,  and  Sally  rested  his  head  against 
her  shoulder. 

"To  Pump  Lane,"  she  directed,  as  the  man  clam- 
bered up  to  his  seat.  "And,  oh !  be  careful  not  to  jolt 
too  much." 

Sally  sat  with  her  back  against  the  board  of  the 
driver's  seat,  one  arm  supporting  Grote.  Occa- 
sionally her  soft  fingers  touched  the  strip  of  muslin 
that  had  stopped  the  flow  of  blood  from  his  cut  fore- 
head, and  once  or  twice  she  eased  his  wounded  shoul- 


A    NIGHT'S    EVENTS  269 

der  against  her  breast.  He  rested  there  like  a  spent 
child,  and  she,  remembering  other  days,  smiled  a 
little  now  and  then. 

They  drove  through  the  empty  city  as  the  sum- 
mer dawn  was  sending  its  first  faint  signals  into  the 
sky.  They  came  to  the  Lane,  deserted  except  for  the 
eyes  of  windows,  and  finally  up  to  the  smithy  door  in 
the  Court.  At  the  sound  of  the  wheels  two  men  had 
started  out.  "Is  it  Sally?"  cried  one,  Gilbert,  his 
voice  all  trembling. 

"Yes,  it's  Sally,"  the  woman  answered,  "and  Con- 
rad too.  But  he's  hurt,  Gilly ;  have  a  care  of  him." 

The  three  men  helped  Grote  from  the  cart  into  the 
smithy.  Oliver  Pipe  brought  a  bottle  of  brandy,  and 
after  a  drink  of  that  Grote  grew  stronger.  Mean- 
time Sally  got  her  twelve  shillings  from  the  smith  and 
paid  the  driver,  who  drove  away,  grinning  at  the 
night's  good  fortune. 

Grote  lay  on  a  pile  of  skins  near  the  smithy  hearth. 
When  Sally  came  in  again  he  raised  himself  on  one 
elbow,  and  then  sat  up.  She  knelt  beside  him,  her 
face  full  of  tender  care.  "What  a  wonderful  man 
you  are,  Conrad,"  she  said,  "the  bravest  in  all  the 
world!" 

His  dark  eyes  fastened  on  her,  and  his  hand 
caught  hers.  "Do  you  think  so?"  he  said  eagerly. 
"Then  I  could  fight  all  the  devils  of  this  world  and 
the  next." 

"I  think  you  have  fought  them  already,"  she  an- 


270     THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

swered,  "and  beaten  them.  Oh,  I  can't  tell  you  what 
I  think — not  now." 

"You  will  come  to-morrow?"  he  begged. 

She  nodded,  her  eyes  wonderfully  luminous  as  they 
looked  into  his.  "Yes,  I  will  come  to-morrow,  and 
whenever  you  have  need  of  me."  Then  she  drew  her 
hand  away  from  his,  and  rising  quickly,  went  to  Gil- 
bert, who  was  waiting  for  her  at  the  door.  Dawn 
was  already  lighting  the  Court  and  Lane. 


XX 

THE  DRAMA  IN  PUMP  COURT 

THE  sun  had  almost  completed  his  journey  next 
day  before  Sally  woke.  She  had  slept  most 
convincingly  when  once  she  started,  which  was  not 
immediately  on  going  to  bed.  So  much  rested  that 
she  felt  almost  made  anew,  she  rose  and  looked  out 
through  her  little  window.  It  was  late  afternoon, 
and  her  conscience  smote  her,  and  more  than  her  con- 
science; so  much  might  have  happened  since  she  and 
Gilbert  had  climbed  the  stairs  at  daybreak.  On  a 
chair  lay  the  gown  she  had  worn,  crumpled,  grass- 
stained,  with  part  of  one  sleeve  torn  away,  and  a 
dark  patch  where  Grote's  cut  shoulder  had  rested 
against  it.  Quickly  she  made  her  toilet,  choosing  a 
new  gown,  and  stopping  in  front  of  her  glass  only 
for  a  minute.  When  she  went  downstairs  she  found 
to  her  relief  that  Kate  was  out,  and  so  she  might  be 
saved  long  explanations.  Perhaps  Kate  had  slept 
blissfully  through  the  night,  or  perhaps  Gilbert  had 
told  her  something  of  what  had  happened — in  any 
event  Sally  had  no  need  to  answer  the  questions  of 
her  sister. 

271 


272     THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

She  made  herself  a  cup  of  tea,  and  breakfasted  or 
supped  on  a  slice  of  ham  and  bread.  Then  she  found 
a  piece  of  paper  and  pencil  in  a  box  of  Gilbert's  and 
scribbled  a  note  to  the  manager  at  Drury  Lane 
Theatre — she  was  unwell,  and  asked  that  the  woman 
who  understudied  her  part  should  take  her  place  that 
evening.  Looking  from  her  door  she  caught  sight  of 
two  boys  she  knew  shooting  marbles  in  the  Lane,  and 
she  called  to  one  of  them  and  gave  him  sixpence  to 
take  her  note  at  once  to  the  manager  at  the  theatre. 

Her  eyes  were  very  bright  as  she  stepped  out  into 
the  Lane,  and  her  thoughts  so  absorbing  that  she 
did  not  notice  that  men  and  women  were  looking 
curiously  at  her,  and  whispering  to  each  other  after 
she  had  passed  them.  For  in  some  manner,  through 
Oliver  Pipe  or  Gilbert,  but  probably  through  the 
old  smith,  word  had  gone  about  that  the  Duke  of 
Chatto  had  kidnapped  Sally  Temple,  and  that  she 
had  been  rescued  from  Chatto  House  only  after  a 
desperate  battle  between  the  Duke  himself  and  Con- 
rad Grote.  That  was  a  story  indeed — one  that  made 
the  blood  boil  and  the  fingers  clench.  But  Sally  was 
too  much  absorbed  to  catch  the  echoes  of  it. 

She  stopped  at  the  door  of  the  harness-shop  in- 
stead of  going  to  the  smithy.  Opening  the  door  she 
found  Oliver  Pipe  threading  a  needle.  "How  is  Con- 
rad?" she  asked  eagerly.  The  smith  looked  up  and 
smiled.  "Oh,  Sally,  my  dear,  it's  you,  is  it?  Con- 
rad's doing  well ;  he  be  remarkable  tough.  He  were 


covered  with  bruises,  but  I  washed  'em  out  and  bound 
'em  up,  and  he's  slept  and  eaten.  He's  not  pretty  to 
look  on,  but  he's  there,  resting  on  the  bench  in  the 
smithy.  Go  talk  to  him,  my  dear." 

Sally  went  by  old  Oliver,  and  through  the  doorway 
that  separated  the  shop  from  the  smithy.  She  stood 
still  a  moment,  looking  at  the  man  who  half  sat,  half 
reclined  on  the  bench,  his  head  partly  turned  from 
her.  A  bandage  hid  the  cut  on  his  forehead,  and 
his  face  was  gaunt  and  gray. 

"He  says  you're  feeling  stronger,"  she  said  in  a 
voice  that  tried  to  hide  its  sudden  shaking. 

The  man  on  the  bench  turned  and  looked  at  her, 
his  eyes  eager  and  hungry.  "Strong  enough,"  he 
answered,  "strong  enough." 

There  was  a  new  light  in  Sally's  face  as  she  went 
toward  him,  but  before  she  reached  him  she  shut  her 
eyes  a  second  as  if  to  guard  herself.  "How  is  the 
head,  and  the  shoulder,  and  all  the  rest  of  you?"  she 
asked  quickly,  and  sat  down  on  the  pile  of  skins  be- 
side the  bench. 

"They're  mending,"  he  answered.  "Oliver's  a 
good  nurse." 

"It's  I  who  should  nurse  you,"  she  said  softly. 
"You  have  helped  so  many  people — Gilbert,  and  the 
others  during  the  plague,  and  now  me.  I  should 
like  to  watch  over  you,  to  fix  your  bandages,  and  get 
your  food,  and  do  whatever  I  could.  It's  little  enough 
for  one  who  has  done  so  much — oh,  little  enough  in- 


274     THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

deed."  She  spoke  rapidly,  eagerly,  keeping  her  eyes 
from  him,  as  if  putting  off  some  impending  crisis. 

"You  have  done  a  great  deal  for  me;  you  have 
shown  me  what  a  woman  is." 

"Be  careful  of  your  shoulder — you'll  rub  it 
against  the  bench." 

"All  those  days  of  the  plague  I  was  learning  a 
little  from  you,  Sally;  and  last  night  more." 

"Isn't  that  bandage  too  tight?"  She  made  as  if 
she  would  reach  up  to  his  brow  to  fix  it ;  but  did  not 
on  second  thoughts,  and  sat  back  on  the  pile  of  skins, 
her  eyes  hidden  from  him,  a  fleeting  smile  on  her 
lips. 

Into  the  silence  that  had  fallen  between  them  came 
the  sound  of  voices  from  out-doors,  a  murmur  of 
voices  that  was  not  loud,  but  slowly  came  in  growing 
volume  through  the  open  windows  of  the  smithy.  It 
was  so  strange  a  noise  that  it  sounded  ominous,  and 
Sally  rose  to  her  knees,  listening,  and  then  stood  up 
and  went  to  the  nearer  window.  The  Court  outside 
was  golden  with  the  sunset,  and  peaceful  to  the  eye, 
but  there  was  noise  in  the  Lane,  and  heads  were  being 
thrust  from  the  windows  of  the  Bear  and  Staff  oppo- 
site to  see  what  the  sound  might  be. 

Then  there  rode  into  the  Court  a  man  on  a  sleek 
black  horse,  a  heavy  man  with  a  red  face  and  small 
greenish  eyes,  who  wore  a  thick  silk  stock  about  his 
neck,  and1  sat  as  if  he  would  be  very  careful  about 
moving.  Beside  him  rode  a  dark-browed  man  with  a 


THE  DRAMA  IN  PUMP  COURT       275 

great  beak  of  a  nose,  and  close  at  their  heels  were  a 
dozen  men  in  russet  livery,  some  with  pikes,  and  some 
with  stout  staffs,  and  one  with  a  coil  of  rope.  After 
them  flocked  men,  women,  and  children,  muttering 
and  growling  and  jeering  at  the  strangers. 

"It's  the  Duke — come  for  you!"  cried  Sally,  in 
swift  terror,  and  she  sprang  back  to  the  man  on  the 
bench,  her  arms  outstretched. 

Grote  stood  up.  "I  never  feared  any  man,"  he 
said,  and  picked  up  a  hammer  that  lay  on  the  anvil. 

"He  has  men  with  him,  a  troop  of  them!"  she 
cried.  "You  must  get  away  by  the  window  at  the 
back — I  can  keep  him  off  long  enough  for  that !" 

"And  leave  you ?"  he  said.  "And  Oliver?  And  fly 
from  such  a  crew?  No,  you  must  let  me  speak  with 
him  once  more." 

She  stood  between  Grote  and  the  door,  her  arms 
spread  out  to  bar  him.  "No,  no — not  again,  Conrad, 
not  again !" 

Chatto  sat  his  horse  in  the  middle  of  the  Court. 
"Where  is  the  smith?"  he  demanded;  "where  is  the 
black-haired  limb  of  Satan?  I've  come  to  whip  him 
out  of  London !"  As  he  spoke  he  caught  at  his  thick 
stock  with  his  hand  as  if  his  throat  hurt  him. 

Old  Oliver  stepped  from  the  door  of  the  harness- 
shop.  "I  am  the  smith,  your  Grace,"  he  said.  "What 
do  you  want  with  me?" 

"Not  you — I  want  the  other — to  tan  his  hide! 
Fetch  him  out  to  me,  men!" 


276    THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

The  crowd  were  booing  and  growling,  and  some 
were  muttering  "The  ugly  beast !"  and  "The  damned 
robber!"  and  other  remarks  that  expressed  their 
opinion  of  his  Grace  of  Chatto.  The  Duke,  however, 
and  the  other  horseman  and  the  liveried  servants  paid 
no  attention  to  the  scowls  and  murmurs,  and  three 
of  the  men-at-arms  went  to  the  door  of  the  smithy 
as  their  master  bade. 

"I  must  speak  with  him,"  Grote  said  to  Sally ;  and 
she  read  in  his  face  that  his  mind  was  set  on  this,  and 
so,  though  very  reluctantly,  stood  away  from  the 
door. 

Grote  opened  it  and  walked  out,  and  at  sight  of 
him  the  Pump  Lane  people  stopped  their  muttering. 
His  head  was  bandaged,  and  a  great  bump  on  his 
left  shoulder  showed  that  it  was  bandaged  too,  but 
his  eyes  were  piercing  bright. 

"At  last,  you  devil!"  cried  Chatto,  shaking  his 
fist  in  a  spasm  of  fury.  "I'll  teach  you  a  lesson  now ; 
I'll  have  you  bound,  and  flog  you  out  of  town !  I'll 
show  you  how  I  handle  curs  that  bite!  And  all  in 
sight  of  that  woman  there  behind  you — she  shall  see 
you  go !"  His  face  was  fairly  corded  with  his  spleen. 

Then  a  deep  voice  boomed  out,  Tom  Jellett's  voice. 
"Will  you  see  Conrad  Grote  whipped,  men?  Will 
you  stand  that?" 

There  came  a  storm  of  "No !"  from  women  as  well 
as  men,  and  hisses  and  curses  on  the  Duke. 

"You  rats !"  snarled  Chatto.    "If  any  of  you  lifts 


THE  DRAMA  IN  PUMP  COURT       277 

a  finger  to  help  him  I'll  turn  you  out  of  jour  homes, 
I'll  throw  you  all  in  the  street!  Lay  hands  on  him, 
men,  and  bind  him !" 

But  Grote  took  a  step  forward,  and  there  was 
something  in  his  face  that  held  the  men  back.  He 
looked  at  Chatto  as  if  they  two  were  alone.  "I  nearly 
killed  you  last  night,"  said  he,  "and  if  you  touch 
me  I  will  kill  you  now.  You  should  be  killed,  coward, 
ravisher,  bully.  Because  you  are  noble  you  think 
yourself  a  god,  treat  your  tenants  like  vermin,  steal 
their  daughters,  beat  their  sons.  I  tell  you  to  your 
face  that  if  you  lay  hands  on  man  or  woman  here  I 
will  raise  a  cry  that  will  drive  you  out  of  England, 
I  will  hound  you  down  and  wipe  you  from  the  earth, 
I  will  show  you  no  mercy !" 

The  crowded  Court  stood  spellbound  as  the  man, 
shaking  his  smith's  hammer,  poured  forth  his  fierce 
denunciation.  None  had  ever  seen  such  a  man  before, 
nor  heard  such  a  voice.  Chatto's  face  was  livid,  his 
eyes  bulging,  his  under-lip  caught  in  his  teeth. 
"You!"  he  screamed.  "You — a  whelp  of  a  smith! 
By  God,  I'll  have  you  hung !"  He  lifted  his  shaking 
hand,  pointing  it  at  the  man  in  front  of  him. 

"Stop!"  said  the  latter.  "You  doubt  me!  Then 
hear  this — I'm  not  Grote  the  smith,  I'm  the  Marquis 
of  Romsey ;  the  Black  Romsey,  have  you  ever  heard 
of  him?  I  can  fight  you  how  you  will,  with  my  hands, 
or  with  men  and  might  and  money.  I  can  do  all  I 
say,  make  your  name  a  hissing  and  a  loathing.  Set 


278     THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

your  men  on,  and  I'll  show  all  England  what  a  foul 
thing  you  are !" 

Chatto's  hand  dropped  to  his  saddle.  "The  Mar- 
quis of  Romsey !"  he  muttered.  "That  crazy  beast !" 
And  he  added,  considering  the  other's  face,  "It  might 
be  he." 

"I  am  he,"  said  the  dark  man.  "Put  it  to  the  test. 
Crazy  beast  if  you  like,  but  still  Romsey." 

Chatto  turned  his  head  to  the  horseman  who  sat 
beside  him,  and  a  roar  of  delight  went  up  from  the 
crowd  in  the  Court.  "It  be  Lord  Romsey  for  cer- 
tain!" Jellett  shouted  to  Oliver  Pipe.  "I've  seen 
those  fighting  eyes  of  his  before !" 

The  roar  stung  Chatto,  and  he  looked  at  the  crowd 
about  him.  "I'll  have  your  homes  for  this,"  he  said 
blackly.  "Get  out  of  them  to-night,  or  I'll  have  you 
emptied  out  to-morrow !  I'll  not  have  such  scum  for 
tenants." 

"Then  I'll  buy  the  houses  from  you,"  said  Romsey, 
"and  the  scum  will  be  better  off.  A  thousand  pounds 
for  Lane  and  Court." 

"No,  no,"  said  Chatto,  "they're  mine." 

"Or  the  story  of  last  night  at  Chatto  House  goes 
to  the  courts,"  said  Romsey,  "and  we'll  see  what  the 
law  will  make  of  such  villainy." 

The  Duke  pulled  at  his  stock,  looked  away,  caught 
sight  of  Sally,  and  looked  back  at  Romsey.  "I'll  sell 
you  the  kennels,"  he  said,  "and  my  curses  into  the 
bargain,  and  that  woman  there,  too.  She's — " 


THE  DRAMA  IN  PUMP  COURT       279 

He  never  finished  his  sentence,  for  the  man  in  front 
of  him  swung  the  hammer  to  his  shoulder.  Chatto 
swerved  to  one  side,  caught  his  throat  as  if  in  pain, 
and  with  a  muttered  curse  turned  his  horse's  head  and 
pushed  his  way  through  the  crowd.  Back  of  him 
came  his  men,  now  lacking  the  insolent  assurance  of 
their  first  appearance,  and  behind  them  the  people  of 
the  Court  and  Lane,  as  if  they  meant  to  see  the  Duke 
surely  on  his  way  from  the  neighborhood  of  their 
homes. 

The  man  with  the  bandaged  head  turned  and  went 
in  at  the  door  of  the  smithy.  His  face  was  very 
weary,  and  he  let  the  hammer  drop  to  the  floor.  The 
sun  had  set  by  now,  and  only  the  afterglow  lighted 
the  rude  room  and  its  rough  furnishings.  The  man 
stood  still  a  minute  or  two,  looking  at  the  floor,  and 
then  glanced  up.  Not  far  away  Sally  was  watching 
him. 

"Black  Romsey  to  the  last,"  said  he.  "You  know 
me  now,  the  bitter  fighting  man.  Hate  is  my  por- 
tion, passion  my  only  strength." 

"But  you  are  Conrad  Grote,"  she  said  in  a  low 
voice,  "the  man  who  stood  by  all  of  us  in  need." 

"And  Romsey  too,  who  drove  you  out  of  Cumnor 
by  his  rage." 

"I've  forgotten  him,"  she  said.  "No,  never  quite 
forgotten  him ; — but  come  to  see  so  much  more  of  the 
other."  She  came  a  little  nearer.  "Tell  me,  Con- 
rad, what  do  you  think  of  me?" 


280     THE  HEART  OF  SALLY  TEMPLE 

He  stared  at  her,  and  she  met  his  eyes  in  the  twi- 
light, the  woman's  soul  full  revealed  in  her  face.  "I 
think  you  are  a  thousand  miles  above  me,"  he  said, 
"but  I  love  you.  Oh,  how  I  love  you."  He  stepped 
close  to  her.  "Do  you  understand?" 

"I  understand,"  she  whispered;  and  hid  her  eyes 
from  his  burning  gaze. 

"And  I  will  have  you  now,"  he  said,  stretching  out 
his  arms.  "I  shall  have  you  now — oh,  at  last!" 

Held  in  his  arms  he  kissed  her  many  times ;  and 
presently  he  murmured,  "This  makes  up  for  all — 
but  I'm  not  worth  it — oh,  dear  heart,  how  I  love 
you!"  and  caught  her  closer  yet,  and  kissed  her 
again. 

The  smithy  was  very  dark  when  she  pushed  him  a 
little  away,  but  he  could  see  her  sweet  face  tremu- 
lously happy.  "I  forget  your  shoulder  and  your 
head,"  she  said.  "This  won't  do.  I  must  take  better 
care  of  you."  She  looked  at  the  smithy  door,  a 
lighter  patch  in  the  darkness.  "Oh,  Conrad,  I  have 
so  much  to  tell  you — but  I  forget,  you're  not  Conrad, 
but  a  great  nobleman  now." 

"And  you're  to  be  that  nobleman's  wife,"  he  said. 

"Do  you  think  I  would  make  a  Lady?"  she  asked 
mischievously. 

"I  know  you  will  make  the  one  lady  in  the  world 
for  me,"  he  answered,  and  drew  her  back  to  him. 
"My  Lady  Romsey — how  sweet  that  sounds!  But 
my  wife  sounds  sweetest  of  all." 


THE  DRAMA  IN  PUMP  COURT       281 

"I  like  to  hear  you  say  that,"  she  whispered,  close 
to  him. 

So  he  repeated  it  many  times,  until  Oliver  Pipe 
came  stumbling  through  the  door  of  the  harness- 
shop.  "Conrad !"  he  called,  "Lord  Romsey !"  Then, 
catching  sight  of  them,  he  added  hastily,  "Oh,  I  ask 
your  pardon." 

"It  must  be  very  late,"  said  Sally,  drawing  away, 
"long  past  time  for  supper." 

"But,"  protested  Romsey,  still  holding  her  hand, 
"I've  so  much  to  say." 

"You  shall  say  it  to-morrow — and  the  next  day — 
and  the  day  after  that — and  so  on,"  she  assured  him, 
and  slipping  her  hand  from  his,  she  went  through 
the  smithy  doorway  into  the  starlit  Court. 

"This  was  a  great  day's  work,  my  lord,"  said 
Oliver  Pipe. 

"Yes,  a  great  day's  work,"  assented  Romsey, 
and  he  too  went  out  into  the  Court,  and  followed 
Sally  with  his  eyes  until  she  reached  her  house. 

[THE  END] 


A     000  045  390 


